The Same at Heart
by angel6of6music6
Summary: All Erik ever wanted was to forget his past and start anew but his memories  keep him trapped in the dark places of his mind. Christine wants to love Erik but is afraid of that darkness inside of him... especially the dark she finds in herself.
1. Chapter 1

Hola! The Same at Heart

Chapter 1

Erik awoke with a sharp gasp. As he sat up, he felt a chilled breeze brush his sweat coated skin. He pressed his large hand to his strong chest, feeling his heart beat in that familiar yet terrible rhythm past the numerous scars. Every night he'd go to bed knowing that his dreams would forever be repeating the nightmares of his past; he thought he would've gotten used to it but he'd still wake up with heart pounding.  
>He pulled aside the blood red silk covers, revealing his black satin pajama pants, and let his bare feet sink into the lush Persian carpet. He sat at the edge of the bed with his thoughts. He scratched an incredibly large scar on his shoulder he had received during his imprisonment in Spain. He glanced at it but before the memory could replay in his head, the back of his mind sparked his peripheral imagination. He looked over his shoulder to look at the empty side of his bed and it was there that a heavenly vision was granted to him.<p>

Christine.

He saw his petite laying on her side with her beautiful bare slender back to him, the long dark brown waves of her hair, splaying over the pillow with the covers resting just above the curve of her hip. He smiled at the idea and let himself pretend a moment. He couldn't even begin to imagine how her skin would feel: warm, soft, smooth. How much had he imagined simply holding her hand without the barriers of his gloves? Even something as small as that would a blessing beyond imagination. As her image appeared to be waking up, she slowly faded away, reminding him that the only way he could have the love of his life at his side in such a way was only in his mind. Along with the vision, his smile faded as he sighed and ran his hand through his thick black hair.  
>He forced himself to get up and purposely dragged himself dramatically for his own humor. Once his bathroom was lit, he observed the part of him he hated to most. Deep sunken eyes, an empty space where his nose should be. Not like a certain evil wizard that spends a lifetime chasing to kill English teen wizards and witches but more like a skull with hair. His skin was a thin layer as if it were pulled tight over his skull, his right cheek hallow whilst the other would've been normal had it not been for the scars that once tore across his face, his top lip boated, arching to the right. God must be left-handed, he often thought. He took one look at the travesty of a face and grinned sarcastically at his reflection, "Good morning, Handsome." If he was to live most of his life alone, he'd have to entertain himself somehow.<p>

He sat in the tub a little longer today. Christine was to spend the night in his home again and as usual, he took extra care in his appearance for her. Not that it would change the hideousness of his face but he thought of it as a type of compensation for it. It was also his way of showing her that he could be a gentleman for her, a normal man. His imagination sparked again. He saw her in the tub with him, he head resting on his chest and sighing quietly. Without realizing it, his eyes closed and he involuntarily let himself sink into the water. He immediately sat up when he felt the water rush into his nostril hole...thingies. As if that wasn't enough to ruin his fantasy, he soon felt the sting of the soap in his eyes. He hissed and mumbled curses as he washed out the burn.

His footsteps echoed throughout his underground home while walking to the front door and tightening his black leather gloves. Always in formal attire for her, black pants, black tie, white dress shirt, a dark red vest with gold detail, black dress jacket with satin lapels, all complete with his white mask. It covered most of his face, revealing only his bottom lip and his strong chin. He threw the black majestic cape over his broad shoulders and clipped the silver chain that would keep the cloak in place. Folding back the collar of the cloak with one hand while the other reached for his fedora hanging on the rack next to the door, as he was brushing off the dust from the black hat, he heard the softest cry from his kitchen. Has he been so anxious he nearly forgotten about his best friend? He placed his hat down on the small table beside the door and heeded to his friend's call.  
>He opened the kitchen door to find his little partner in crime, looking at him with annoyed green eyes. "Bon matin, Angelique!" he exclaimed with an actor's facade. The fluffiest ball of black fur gave a low growl in reply. A while back, while stalking the Parisian streets one snowy night, he heard a small kitten yelping and crying in an alley. He followed the sound and found the kitten buried in snow. The moment he picked up her small body in one hand, he knew she was near death. Shaking so violently, she lifted her tiny head to plead with her big bright green eyes. With that one gaze, she won the Opera Ghost's heart. He wrapped her in his hankerchief, placed her carefully inside his coat, close to his chest for warmth, and took her home. Since then, she has been the small anchor to his sanity giving him someone to talk to and play music for when he didn't have the privilege of Christine's presence.<br>Erik eyed his furry companion as he prepared a small dish for her, "Oh, don't look at me like that. You know how I am when Christine is going to spend the night." Angelique's eyes widened and head lifted. "I know," he smiled, "I'm excited too." For Erik, having Christine in his home meant having a taste of being a normal man, even though he knew she was staying because she was really unconfident about her aria in the upcoming opera. For Angelique, however, it meant having her fur brushed and learning all the scandals of the Opera Company and learning secrets that she knew Erik would do anything to know. He poured the milk into a medium sized bowl and placed it by his friend, "Here that should hold you over till I return."  
>He watched her take her first few licks then petted the thick fur at the top of her head. He headed to the front door, placed his fedora on his head and walked into the darkness to find the light of his life.<p>

-

"Psst! Chris!" Meg called. Turning to Meg, Christine accidently tripped on the train of Carlotta's gown. Christine wasn't the only one who stepped on the diva's ridiculously long skirt but she was her understudy for the opera they were rehearsing, which would explain why Carlotta glared at her with daggers. Christine returned a nervous smile as the diva rolled her eyes and turned to sing to an empty auditorium. Christine sang along with the chorus and somehow she was still able to hear Meg loudly whisper from the curtain, "Sorry!" She giggled to herself then smiled at her bff.  
>As rehearsals went on, Madame Giry watched from the wings, making sure her dancers were doing everything correctly. She suddenly felt that same mischievous presence she used to feel when a young Meg Giry would try to sneak behind her.<p>

"No matter how hard you try, Monsieur Le Fantome', you could never startle me!"

Erik's chuckle echoed throughout the air. He lowered himself to face her upside down. Upside down? Madame Giry looked up to find him hanging from his legs onto one of the beams. She smiled at him, slightly surprised. A wave of his hair dangled as he curiously titled his head, "How do you know when I'm always around?"  
>Sometimes, she'd catch moments where Erik seemed no more than a child. He certainly had the energy of a small boy with the strength of a well built man: climbing, jumping, swinging, and crawling high above their heads in the rafters and hiding in the shadows amongst them. She often wondered where he learned the skills of a trained assassin from Italy during the Renaissance Era. Never a hint of exhaustion in him even after such vigorous activity. "I'm a mother," She stated, "I have eyes on the back of my head."<br>He smiled as he picked himself up into the dark. She heard some rustling when suddenly the Opera Ghost jumped down. Landing on both feet with one hand to the floor while the other held his hat, He rose with a type of majesty and grace as he towered over the small elderly woman. Erik was roughly 6'4, maybe taller. His broad shoulders and chest plus his height made him a frightening sight, even if he didn't have a disfigurement to hide. Madame crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows to him. "What?" Erik asked. She tilted her head, "Christine Daae'?" Hell, he had been afraid of this!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You took her into your home?" Madame scolded as she repeatedly whacked Erik with her cane. "Wait! It wasn't like that! Ow! Listen!" Erik ducked and blocked but the small woman was swift and the silver handle of the cane was heavy. "You lied and manipulated her into your underground, bat cave of a house just so you two could 'sing'? Erik, I'm sorry but I find that very hard to believe!"

Madame Giry was the only person in existence that Erik allowed to scold and hit him when he needed it, only because he saw her as the mother he never had. Well his real mother hit him too but Madame at least had a reason. At first she was just a messenger, sending notes and messages to and fro. However, she began to notice Erik's admiration for Christine; the way he stared at her with an involuntary dim-witted smile, the menacing black-edged envelopes that would put Christine in bigger roles little by little, Madame would merely mention Christine's name and the dark caves of his eyes would shine with emerald and sapphire. Once she saw that he was genuinely in love with the young soprano, she began to give him little details of her that he couldn't learn from the shadows and how he adored every one of those tiny details. It was from those tiny details that he got the idea of becoming Christine's "angel of music" but Madame never knew of this mysterious "angel" business so she was pretty pissed when Erik confessed all this to her.

Madame Giry poked Erik's solid chest with the silver handle of her cane with every accusation, "You're a thieving, murdering, sneaky, filthy-rich, love-sick, Angel of Music slash Opera Ghost and beneath all of that you are still a man! I know you desire the girl just like how any other man desires a beautiful young woman." By the time she had finished, Erik's eyes had lowered to the dusty wooden floor. He couldn't deny that Christine was the very epicenter of his passion and desire. He once tried to "fulfill his own needs" but had a lingering fear that Madame Giry would burst through the bathroom door out of nowhere and beat him with that infernal cane for thinking of Christine in such a way, so he never tried it again.  
>"But," she continued in a more calmer and understanding tone, "you are also a gentleman and you've never lied to me." Erik gave her a slight smile. "I'll listen," she said as she crossed her arms and patiently waited. "She's finally in your home and then...?" she added.<br>Erik gave a deep sigh, "... she was in my home. Everything was fine. Well, not really. It was awkward with the revelation of an angel actually being a six foot four, maybe taller, musically gifted monster. I told her not to touch my mask and well..."

-

"Mon Dieu!" sighed Christine as she got off the stage. "Reyer was being hard on everyone today!" agreed Meg as she looked to the wings and saw Raoul approaching, "Oh. Here comes your lover, Chris." Christine hit her arm "Don't say that so loud!"

"Oh please who's going to hear me? The Opera Ghost?"

Twenty Points, to Mlle. Giry! Raoul was an unbelievably handsome young man, tall, dark, rich. Everything a woman could possibly want and yet... Christine didn't. They were childhood playmates and she was very fond of him but that was all she saw when they would meet, that same little boy with a handkerchief tied around his head, covering his eye and waving around a stick nearly poking out everyone else's eyes. "Christine!" Raoul exclaimed as he came closer. Meg raised her eyebrows teasingly, "Good evening you two."

"No, wait! Meg, please don't leave me alone, he thinks I like more him than a-FRIEND! Raoul it's so nice to see you!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Please understand that I didn't mean to hurt her. I just didn't want to lie to her anymore; I wanted to be honest with her, my true self!" It was hard for Erik to speak past the lump in his throat. "Then why did you act so monstrous with her?" Madame asked. "Look at me!" he nearly shouted but quieted himself. "Look at me!" he hissed, "I am a monster inside and out. I can hide the monsters inside, kill them and destroy each and every one of them for her because I love her. THIS monster, however," he pointed to his face, "I cannot hide. The only way to hide it is with this mask... or the darkness, of course but I am so tired of hiding in the shadows." Madame listened intently, his eyes beginning to water. "I asked her, politely, not to touch my mask, my dignity. I told her to listen to the music that I was playing, to listen to my heart that I poured out into every chord and staff, hoping she'd hear the beauty in it. Then, with her tiny hands, she steals away my ma- my dignity. Just like that! How can I ever win her heart now? And then with that damn Vicomte in the picture, why it's damn near impossible!" In his mind he could see Christine's terrified reaction to his face, and heard the Voice yelling at her. The Voice had been with him for as long as he could remember, mostly in his mind but when Erik lost control of him, he would take over. He didn't like the Voice; he hated him for hurting Christine. "I apologized of course. She forgave me but I could never forgive myself," he said, already knowing what Madame was going to ask. Madame said, "Christine's curiosity far surpasses that of a kitten, always wanting to learn and explore and understand everything in front of her. To be honest, I'm not surprised she stole away your mask. Erik, give her some time to get to understand you. Besides I'm sure your face isn't that terrible."  
>Erik looked at Madame with half-opened, annoyed eyes. He raised his hand to lift his mask, just a tad so that Madame could see how terrible it was. Madame stared wide-eyed at the hint of the enlarged upper lip and horribly scarred jaw. How can anything look like that, she thought. He waited to hear a scream or a gasp to let him to put the mask back down but never before had he gotten a stammer. "L-like I said..." he put the mask back in place, "she's different..." a shudder of disgust crawled down her back "VERY different. Give her time." Madame wasn't so sure she could stand by her conviction any longer. Dear God, if that was just his lip and jaw, how was the rest, she thought. She pushed the rude thoughts aside and asked "do you plan on taking her to your home again?"<br>He wasn't sure what answer to give. He decided the truth, "She's been to my home many times since then, for her lessons. After the... incident, I asked her if she would like to continue her lessons from her dressing room or if she'd like to go to my home..." "And she decided your home?" Madame asked, surprised. "I was just as shocked as you are now," he admitted, "But I think she just likes the cat." Madame smiled, "How is my little feline friend?" Erik answered, "Loyal as ever. They are really fond of each other, Angelique and Christine. Angelique was a little jealous at first but she got over it quickly."  
>Madame drew a little closer to him, now that he seemed to calm down. "Just remember Erik, that when a lady says no, she means no. No one likes to be controlled." "Of course," he agreed. "Alright," she sighed, "I just wish someone would've told Monsieur Giry that. Erik knew it would've been rude to ask but he couldn't help it, "what happened to him?" "Nothing you can prove," she replied almost immediately. They shared a smile but before he could comment on Madame's suspicious comment, he another comment being made in the distance. Christine. He'd recognize that angelic voice anywhere. Was her rehearsal over already? "Quelle heure est-il, Madame?" She brought out her pocket watch, "...6:21."<br>Christ, he was late and he was sure that that idiot Vicomte had gotten to his Christine in the hallway, damn. He had to hurry, wait, where was he? The left wing and her room is on the right wing. He grabbed his hat and rushed for the nearest ladder, shouting, "merci pour tout, Madame." She waved her hand as he began to climb. Just as she turned away, she heard a loud stomp behind her. She turned back to find Erik at the foot of the ladder. In a rushed breath, he asked while lifting his hat, "Vraiment rapide: comment va mes cheveux?"  
>"What?"<br>"How's my hair? Do I look odd, aside from the mask? Do I have dust on me? Is there anything in my teeth?"  
>She laughed and shook her head, "The perfect gentleman." He smiled and hurried up the ladder. He stumbled on a step then continued upward.<p>

"Yes, the Opera is Astonishing!" exclaimed Raoul as Christine pretended to be listening but was really worried sick about being late. "The music," he continued, "is fraught with love, hate, sensuality and unbridled passion, all the things I've managed to suppress in my life." "Raoul-" Christine interrupted, "as much as I would love to continue this, I have a lesson to attend to." Erik was enjoying his rejection from above. "Oh I nearly forgot about your busy schedule! I don't want you to lose your part." "Yes, and I really must be goi-" Christine stopped as she pondered over Raoul's pronunciation of Schedule. "Schedule?" her and Erik both asked under their breath. "Anyway," she continued, "Good night Raoul." The Vicomte kissed her knuckle and Erik's gut twisted with envy, "Good night, Christine." Erik hurried to the corridors to meet her at the mirror.

-

Her lesson went rather well. She never missed an entrance and she sang all of her chords and pitches perfectly, Erik was beaming with pride, if only he could show it. Hunger was Christine's inspiration for her wonderful lesson. She hadn't had the chance to eat all day and Erik was a wonderful cook. During dinner, she hated having to take tiny, ladylike bites of her food. At some point during her meal she glanced at Angelique eating her meal on the floor beside Erik. She envied the cat for being able to take whole mouthfuls. "Is something wrong, Christine?" asked Erik. How long was she staring? Even Angelique glanced at her. "No, I'm fine thank you." Erik furrowed his brow and returned to his meal. She glanced back at Angelique to find her still staring at her. Sometimes, she thought the magical feline could read minds. Angelique walked to the kitchen. Christine and Erik were just about to take another bite when a loud crash echoed from the kitchen that made Christine jump and Erik close his eyes in irritation. Erik sighed, "Excuse me." As he walked away she heard him mumble, "chat stupide, ne peut aller nulle part sans détruire quelque chose." As soon as the door clicked behind him, she began to shove forkfuls of food into her mouth. She was really hungry. By the time Erik sat back down, his full plate was more than half gone. She kept herself busy, reading the spines of the books on the shelves as he eyed her and her plate. Pauvre petite fille, he thought, she was hungry. He smiled to himself and continued to eat.  
>After dinner, she would usually clean-up as Erik would read a book in his throne before the hearth. Tonight, the fire was hypnotizing and intoxicating. His book fell to the carpeted floor as he fell asleep. Angelique eyed her sleeping master when an idea sparked in her mischievous head. She strutted to the kitchen with her tail in the air. Christine was just finishing up when Angelique meowed to catch her attention, "Why, hello, Mademoiselle." Christine ran her hand along the long smooth black fur as Angelique meowed again. The cat walked to the kitchen door and waited for her master's angel. Christine followed her to find Erik asleep in his chair. A wave of black hair hung over his mask and his chest rose and sank with every breath, how she loved this image of him. Angelique had climbed the back of the chair to reach the very top. Christine's eyes widened as she commanded in a hushed voice, "Angelique, down! You'll wake him up!"<br>The cat rested her paws on his shoulder. Christine froze, expecting him to wake up angry but instead he smiled. Angelique knew what she was doing and Christine was curious to her intentions. The cat snaked her silky smooth tail around Erik's chin as he breathed, "Christine." Christine immediately covered her mouth to keep any laugh from escaping. Erik's body writhed and jerked as Angelique rested her paws on his chest, "Christine, Christine." Christine was savoring the way his angel's voice was saying her name so passionately but to see this little feline manipulate his dreams was so hilarious. Erik's hand fisted and opened on the arms of the chair as he breathed her name over and over. As the devious cat rested her paws on his thighs, his hands gripped the arms of his chair and he sucked in a harsh breath. Angelique rested her hind paws on his thighs and her front paws on the steel wall of his chest, facing him. She meowed so loud it startled Erik awake to his feet, making her fall to the floor and run to Christine's room.  
>"Damn cat, that's the third time this week!"<br>Behind him, he heard Christine giggle. He turned wide-eyed as she silenced herself. "Did you have a nice dream?" she teased lightly. Dear God, what did she see or hear, he thought. He immediately felt the heat of embarrassment and turned away. She walked closure to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. Is she touching me or is it the cat again? She's touching him! The heat in his body grew to an inferno, this is the first time she ever touched him willingly. "Please don't be embarrassed," she said with a smile, "you're only human." He smiled back at her. Was Madame right? Just to give her time?

_That touch feels amazing, doesn't it Erik?_

The Voice, No, no, he begged, please not now...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Erik, what is it?" Christine asked. His eyes had grown distant, listening to the Voice in his head.

_Yes, Erik, what is it exactly? Is it the fact how her touch can make you melt like wax to a flame? Or maybe just the thought of what else she has the power to do to you in those small hands._

Christine felt his body tremble in response to the thought that the Voice gave him. "Erik?" she called as she grew worried. His eyes seemed to blink back to reality then immediately went to her hand, still on his shoulder. He stared for a moment, etching the sight into his memory. Her small, smooth ivory hand, resting upon the black-on-black diamond design of his coat.  
>If he looked up, he would've seen Christine doing the same. As she looked up at his adoring emerald and sapphire eyes, he stared into her warm chocolate eyes but he abruptly turned away with saddened eyes. Christine's smile had faded to a deep concern, "Erik, if I had upset you-" "No, no," he answered. Upset him? The memory alone would bring him smiles for decades. "It's just... It's late and you must get some rest." As he looked at her, her brow furrowed and her eyes directed toward the clock behind him. He glanced at the clock to see that it was only 7:58. He let his shoulders fall as he sighed, why can't anything ever agree with me for once?<p>

_Right?_

"Not you!" he said aloud. "What?" Christine asked, confused. He quickly recovered, "You have to wake up early and I won't have you late for rehearsal." She nodded and made sure that he saw the playful sadness of her face, he already knew what she wanted when she did that. "If you wake up very early," he added with a smile, "I'll make you an omelet." "Deal!" she agreed with a beaming smile. He chuckled deep in his throat. Christine loved to hear him laugh. She loved the resonance and timbre of his voice. It was only when he was angry that his voice didn't sound like him at all.  
>She picked up her skirts and headed to her room for the night. She halted before she opened her door and turned to him with a sweet smile, "Good Night <em>ange<em>." He sighed with a smile. For him, being her Angel was greater than being the king of the world's strongest and richest country. "Good night...," he breathed. She smiled and entered her room. As the door clicked behind her, he finished, "... _ma petite_." As he spoke, he placed his hand over where hers had just been. It felt as though she had branded him and for a moment, he could swear he felt the remaining heat left there.

She found Angelique lying on her bed, purring quietly as she readied for her bath. She sat a little longer in her tub tonight. Whenever she stayed in Erik's home, she always took extra care in her appearance. Not that the extravagant gowns Erik left her weren't enough but it was Erik, her Angel.  
>She loved him; she always had from the first moment he sang to her that dreadful night where she had been mere inches away from taking her own life. Why he practically saved her life with his earth real voice. She just didn't know how to show him or if it was a good choice for her. After all, he seemed to be many men inside one body. One man was her Angel, her protector, the other her mentor, then another Erik the man she loved. The one of the men that frightened her the most was the Phantom, the one who'd haunt the Opera above and also the one she saw glimpse of firsthand the night she took away his mask. Just remembering the rage she saw in his eyes caused her to shiver. Erik, however, was kind and a genius. Sometimes cranky and impatient but he always put her first. She found herself imagining Erik whispering in her ear, as he always did in her dreams. Whispering what she had no clue but how she loved the idea! Angelique was watching her Master's Angel dream in the giant water dish. Angelique had a familiar idea pop in her little head and meowed loudly. Christine's eyes shot open and saw the black cat staring at her. Christine laughed, "Now don't you think you can pull that shenanigan with me."<p>

-

"Christine, I've told you time and time again, that is an F sharp!" "I just sang that!" "No you didn't!" "Yes, I did!" Ah, one of Angelique's favorite pass times, watching these stubborn people fight over music and pitch and performance. Today however, the little cat had an idea in mind as always. She knows these two love each other, and she can't believe how absolutely afraid they are of it. So she felt it was imperative that she help them move further in this unbeknownst relationship. They continued to bicker back and forth and then the volume started to rise in both of their voices. This is it, she walked toward Christine, neither one of them noticed her in their argument. Angelique laid her tail flat on the ground, just a few inches away from Christine's feet and prepared herself for the pain. Erik stood up with a yell toward Christine but she stood her ground. Christine gave a sarcastic remark back as she stepped back onto Angelique's tail. The cat jumped up and ran back to the hallway. Christine lost her balance and nearly fell... but she didn't. Erik caught her and was holding her close to himself as they faced each other. Just as planned, Angelique watched them from the hallway. "Are you alright?" He asked Christine. "Yes I'm..." she never got to finish as they stared at each other. He was holding her and she was clinging to him. For a long time they seemed frozen, lost in the feeling of being so close, the warmth of each other. Erik was having trouble breathing, Christine felt an unbelievable sensation in the pit of her stomach and Angelique strutted past them, chip up. They both looked at the devilish feline and smiled. They looked at each other again and quickly let go. Never having broken their stare they stood apart, hardly believing what that simple action had caused in them. They both turned and sought sanctuary in their rooms. As they slammed the doors behind them, they both let out a deep sigh and closed their eyes. Smiling like idiots, they both breathed in their rooms, "Oh my God..."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The rest of the day, they spent in their rooms. Christine was laying down on her bed thinking, wondering, smiling. God, the absolute warmth and safety of Erik's strong arms! Had she ever felt anything like it? Now that she thought about it, she did. She remembered being in her father's arms as a child. How long had she clung to his warmth through the scary and threatening storms or cried for them when her nightmares awoke her in the middle of the night? She missed her father, her Papa.  
>The passing of her father had forced her into adulthood at the age of 8. Madame Giry was a friend of Gustave, her father, and had offered Christine to stay with her and Meg, who was about the same age as her. They grew up as sisters together in the corps de ballet and saw each other as such. Although Christine felt whole-heartedly grateful for Madame being the mother she never had, she couldn't help but feeling like such a burden. Madame always had just enough money for them to eat everyday and it wasn't odd for Christine and Meg to share their meals.<br>Christine took it upon herself at the age of 16 to make her own money and help Madame whatever way she could. Her father had always told her she had the voice of God's Angels. Trusting her father's words, she snuck out of their home one night and sung her father's requiem on the Parisian Streets for coins. She stopped a few years later under the guidance of her Angel. Little did she know it was Erik who had listened to her every night on those streets. She had finally gotten enough money to rent an apartment but maintaining it and buying her own food and clothes and necessities was harder than she thought. Sometimes she'd go for weeks without food to pay for rent. Being an adult was becoming overwhelming; she didn't want to ask anyone for help. She knew as well as anyone she was stubborn beyond comprehension.  
>One night, it all got to her. For so long she held in all of her stress, never once acknowledging she needed help. She stood on the roof of the opera, gazing over the lights of Paris. She wasn't alone, Erik was on the roof also, thinking of her. He was laying on the back of the Angel statue that watched over all of Paris. He often went there to stare at the stars and think, as any normal man would. A small sneeze betrayed his privacy; he raised an eyebrow and looked over the shoulder of the Angel to see Christine standing a little too close the edge of the roof. She was crying, Erik wanted to jump down and hold her but he had left his mask with his cloak, resting at the foot of the Angel. He loved the way the chilled air felt on his face. She was begun to sob, crying to God to send her back her Papa. She had a terrible fear of heights but she didn't care, she was days away from being evicted from her apartment, she was hungry and tired; she wanted Papa, someone to tell her that everything will be alright. She took a look to the street below her, the people no more than moving dots and the carriages only bigger dots. Her fear got the best of her and was making her dizzy. Before she could step back, her head felt heavy and had felt the strength in her knees give out. Watching from above, Erik jumped down to catch her arms before she was completely out of reach. She was unconscious as he carried her to her apartment. She awoke to find an envelope of money and plenty of food in her, well, what would be a kitchen but hardly sufficed as one.<br>"Christine, dinner is ready."  
>"Holy Jesus! Alright I'll be right there."<br>Erik's voice had startled her. She could smell the amazing aroma of his cooking. There was nothing this man couldn't do!

Wow, dinner was awkward. The thought of their earlier embrace. Anytime she tried to start a conversation, Erik would just nod or shake her head. Anytime he tried to start a conversation, she would just nod. She sat on the couch petting Angelique, listening to Erik work on his music. And these upright monkeys are supposed to be the superior species, Angelique thought. All of her hard work and tears led to nothing! Angelique was getting angrier the more she thought of it. She started fussing around and Christine tried to hold her down to calm her. "Angelique, what's gotten into you?" Christine muttered under her breath. With a loud yell, Angelique swung her claws at Christine's face leaving 3 small scratches on her left temple. Erik's music immediately stopped to pick up the aggravated animal from Christine. Angelique dug her claws into Erik's right shoulder, making him bleed but all he was concerned about was Christine. He locked the cat in his room and ran back to aid Christine.  
>Christine pressed her fingers to her temple, she was bleeding. She hissed at the slight sting her fingers left. "Let me see," he commanded as he sat down next to her and moved her hand away. He studied her tiny wounds, he then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it too her head. "Hold it there, I'll be right back. Don't touch it!"<br>He left to the kitchen, his gloves are off, she noted. She suddenly wished the cat had scratched her all over. He came back with some type of cloth and a small green bottle. He poured some of the liquid onto the cloth and Christine's eyes grew wide, "What is that? Why does it smell funny? What is it? Where'd it come from? Is it going to hurt? Is it-" she never finished. Erik had placed a bare finger on her lips to silence her. "Do you trust me?" She nodded. He continued to his task. She was left breathless at the contact of his skin to her lips, watching his hands move in their unbelievable grace. "It's alcohol" he explained. He was about to place the wet cloth over her scratches when he hesitated, "I'm so sorry but I have to." "Why is it going to hur-" her words were cut off with a small whimper of pain as he placed the cloth on her. He held it there with a sight pressure. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized. As he finished tending to her scratches, she saw the blood on his shoulder seeping through his white shirt. "You're bleeding." He turned to look at his shirt and shrugged "I'll take care of it later." she nodded and let him continue. While he padded the cloth to her head, he let his whole palm rest on her cheek. How warm her skin felt, he'd forgotten about his gloves. She closed her eyes and savored his touch. All too suddenly he stood up and faced away from her. "You should be fine now." He sat at the piano bench and looked at her. "Thank you, _ange_" she smiled to him. He smiled back.  
>He heard Angelique scratching at his door and got up to open it. Angelique ran to Christine and immediately began to nudge against her legs, purring apologetically. She did the same to Erik. "I forgive her," Laughed Christine. "Me too," Erik agreed, "It's late and I think you should get some rest." She nodded she got up to walk to her room with her eyes still on Erik. The corner of her knee banged hard against a small table that she walked into. Her eyes shut and hands fisted, Erik cringed knowing how many times he himself walked into that damn table. She held her breath and hung her head, "Just let it out," Erik told her. Without hesitation she shouted, "Son of a bitch, God damn it why?"<br>Erik and Angelique stared at her, jaws dropped. As she continued to rain curses on the table, Erik was intrigued. He never saw her angry. She must've hit her knee hard, she began cursing in Swedish. Erik well understood what she was saying and was even more amused of the things she said, things that the author wishes she could say on paper but can't.  
>When she finally calmed down, Erik looked down to pick up the handkerchief he dropped during her rant when he noticed he had an erection. Where the hell did this come from? He quickly picked up the handkerchief and tried to cover himself with it, no that looks worse! He was going to grab a music sheet from his piano when she picked up her head to look at him. He quickly crossed one thigh over the other, "Erik I'm so sor-". She furrowed her brow at the peculiar way he was sitting. "It's perfectly normal," he said, "We all need to relapse anger or pain one way or another."<br>"I know but that was really improper and not at all appropria-"  
>"Christine," he said her name reassuringly. "You need not feel embarrassed with me. You're human." She smiled at him and he smiled back. She suddenly leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Erik's body froze and eyes wide with shock. He sat up straight to make sure she didn't feel how much she had aroused him. She held him tighter, breathing in the scent of him and savoring his warmth. Erik breathed the beautiful smell of her hair He raised his arms to hug her back. He wasn't sure if there was a proper order for arms to be in. He tried different arm positions before he finally wrapped himself around her small body. They simply held each other for long minutes, both of them slowly holding each other tighter and tighter. Before their bodies were nearly flush, Erik let go, knowing that he wasn't sure if he'd stop once he'd had he close. They nervously laughed. "Good night Christine." "Good night Erik." She walked to her room and closed the door behind her. Suddenly her door opened again and she scurried to him to place a quick kiss on the cheek of his mask then ran back to her room. She jumped onto her bed and squealed into her pillow. Erik sat up frozen as a statue. Smiling, He placed his fingertips over the place where she kissed the mask. His mask... Never his face. He frowned and hung his head. Angelique meowed, concerned. He looked into her emerald eyes, "Why do you two torture me like this?"<p>

He heard the Voice screaming with rage in his head, _"Why is she teasing us like this? She knows the power she has in her touch and she toys with us like this? The little harlot!"_

Erik felt the anger flaring in his body. Tomorrow she was to go back to rehearsal and- Oh great that damn Vicomte is going to see fantastic! Just wonderful! He got his manuscript notebook and threw it across the room. He felt his muscles tensing. Angelique knew what was happening when his eyes flared and his shoulders heaved with every rage-full breath. She sought shelter in the kitchen and closed her eyes, afraid of the real monster that hid in her master.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Erik (really quick: again, I'm really sorry.) continued to take his rage out on various furniture and glass objects in his home. Christine lay on her bed while listening to his rage outside her room. She upset him; her little token of appreciation obviously wasn't taken as such. Why did it upset him? All she did was kiss his mask...

...His mask! Of course! How could she have been so ignorant! She should've known kissing his mask rather than his face would set him off. She remembers his face very clearly, the sunken eyes, the tight and scarred skin, his hallow cheek, his bloated lip and of course the absence of a nose. She never forgot it and she never forgot how she reacted so childishly to it. She was just surprised by it at first but then but when its grotesque features were contorted with rage that was when she became afraid. Even then she was more frightened of what his actions might be rather than his face.

She often wondered how his skin would feel. The palm of his hand was cold at first but then melted to comforting warmth she wished she could stay on forever. More importantly, how did his lips feel? She fantasized of just running up to him, ripping away his mask, and kiss his misshapen lips, full on. But how would he react? Angry? Shocked? Or maybe, God-willing, kiss her back? She loved him, she really did. What would it mean to love him though?

She decided to sleep on it. No, wait, she felt terrible now. She had to tell Erik she was sorry before he would run out of things to destroy. She got up, rushing to her door but just as her hand was about to grasp the door handle, a loud crash of glass hit very near her door that made her retract. She paused for a moment. Suddenly there wasn't any more shattering or snaps or angry grunts. She pressed her ear to the door to listen.

At first she heard exhausted panting followed by a deep sigh, then soft footsteps, almost inaudible. She heard the steps travel past her door onward to Erik's room. She carefully opened her door enough for a peek. She saw him in his white shirt, black vest and black pants. He opened his door and walked into his darkened room, head and shoulders hung. To her surprise, he didn't close the door behind him. Perhaps because he was certain that she had fallen asleep already... or maybe he knew she was there and wanted her to see something? Rather than playing it safe, she tip-toed down the hall to his door and peered in.

He stood in his room, his back to her, staring at the manuscript of Don Juan Triumphant that was set on the music stand of the grand pipe organ. He let his fingers graze the leather-bound cover of the sacred manuscript. Watching such a simple gesture made Christine shiver all the way down her spine along with a sudden heat that invaded the pit of her stomach. He let his hand drop to his side as he stared at it. His arms rose, reaching for the belt-like buckle of his mask behind his head. Christine's eyes widened and her body froze. If he were to turn around, without his mask, and find her watching him, God knows what would happen!

Christine held her breath, watching his fingers work at the mask's binding. He held the white mask while his other hand rubbed his face; he had made the mask extra tight around her. He placed his mask atop of the organ facing the door. Christine couldn't help but feel as if the mask was staring at her with eyes of its own. Without Erik behind it, the mask's face looked very menacing and angry. Erik rubbed his face with both hands before running his fingers through his thick black hair, a habit he had that Christine noticed very early on.

His fingers intertwined and locked behind his neck with his elbows above his head. My God this man's physical build, Christine thought. With the help of the candlelight she could see the shadows of the seemingly-perfect sculpted muscles of his arms underneath his shirt. She felt sorry for anyone who had felt the full endurance of his wrath and felt lucky that she had so nearly escaped it. His head slightly tuned to glance at the violin that was hanging on the music stand beside him. Christine shifted on her feet to lean on the door frame more comfortably as he began to tune the instrument. She immediately recognized the piece; Winter from Vivaldi's Four Season Concerto. Even though she could only see his back, he seemed unbelievably relaxed. He played the intricate piece with such ease, almost as if it were a simple melody.

Not too long after the first movement and going on to the second, he abruptly stopped without any warning. She prepared herself for the worse but she wasn't going to run away again. He let out a sigh as he placed his violin back on the stand, "Christine, go to bed." She was having a hard time finding her voice; c'mon spit it out, "I... I n-need to tell you something." He stood facing the wall with his hands fisted, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait till morning. I-I'm very tired." "You didn't sound tired," she insisted as she slowly walked toward him. His was hand reaching for his mask when, without thinking, closed her own hand over it. Both their bodies went rigid and both hands began to tremble. Erik wanted to turn and look but he was afraid that if he did, she would see his face and run away again. She brought his hand to his side then hesitantly wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her head on the space between his broad shoulders.

They both closed their eyes, savoring the warmth of each other and the softness of the other. What am I doing, she thought. "What are you doing, _petite_?" he asked. Maybe the cat wasn't the only one who could read minds, "I'm sorry, _ange_. I didn't mean to make you upset. I just... wanted to show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me. Are you still angry at me?" She felt him take a deep breath; little did she know he was trying hard to suppress the urge to cry. How much he hated guilt! It hardly ever approached him but when it did, it nearly beat him to death, especially when it was about Christine.

He looked down at the image of her ivory hands on his tummy and tried to engrain into his mind's eye. He hesitantly covered one of her fisted hands with his own. He smiled, her hands were so tiny, "I could never stay angry at you, _ma belle_." I guess he really was angry at me, she thought, "thank you, ange!" She held him tighter and they both relished it. "Go to sleep, Christine. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, you need rest." She pressed a quick kiss to the silk material of his vest and ran off to her room. That night they both fell asleep smiling.

What a long day it was becoming! With the premiere of the opera coming too soon, everyone was angst and pushy. Christine was in costume for the lead role, Giovanna. She was waiting offstage for Carlotta to finish her practice before Christine could take her turn. She heard a small voice in the distance along with the sound of dance heels. "Chris!" of course, Meg. She turned to find Meg running though a crowd of people and stagehands to get to her. "Excuse me. Step aside. Your dress is up in the back, Madame. Chris, I have news to tell you! Guess who wants to escort you to the masquerade ball?" She already knew, "Rao-"

"Oh c'mon! You're not going to guess? I ran all this way in Cha-cha heels just to tell you!"

"Raoul! I just said," answered Christine. "Yes!" Meg exclaimed, "He's been telling everyone how beautiful you are and how you two met you were merely children and how it just all seems so romantic! You are so lucky! I'm so happy for you, alright not really. I'm a little jealous I'll admit but nonetheless, my adopted sister is going to have a Vicom- Chris, your dirty pillows are all the way up to your chin." Christine covered her chest with a scarf, knowing she was right, "I know but you know how if the seamstresses don't make the costumes to Carlotta's desires, she'll bite their head off." Meg placed her fingers inside the neckline of Christine's costume to help her lift the bodice up to cover her more, "I understand but they couldn't change it just a little for you?" "I'm just an understudy, Meg," grunted Christine lifting the bodice from the waist.

"Good afterno-"

Both girls turned to find the Vicomte staring at them oddly. Meg quickly retracted her hands out of Christine's dress while Christine covered up with the scarf again. "Good afternoon," he continued, "I was wondering if I may speak with you a moment since you are just standing here doing nothing." Nothing? Both were a little offended by his remark. "Actually, Monsieur Vicomte, I was preparing myself for my role onstage," Christine told him. He stared at her, blankly. "In other words," Meg stepped in, "She was getting into character. Right now she is no longer Christine. She is Giovanna." Christine loved it when Meg began to use grand gestures and over the top tones with her voice. "She's Italian?" asked Raoul. Meg turned to Christine with wide annoyed eyes. Christine shrugged to her. "Hypothetically speaking, yes she is," Meg answered. "Miss Daae'?" Reyer called. "Break a leg, Chris!" Meg whispered excitedly. Christine smiled and squeezed her hand before she walked on. "I thought she was Giovanna?" the Vicomte asked. Mama always said Christine was patient and understanding, now I can see she has the patience of a saint of she can tolerate this one, Meg thought. She sighed "Yes... yes she is Giovanna."  
>"Is she still Itaili-"<br>"Let's play the quiet game!"  
>Erik watched from the rafters and quietly mouthed these words to the small ballerina, "THANK you!"<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Erik watched Christine's rehearsal from above. He was admiring the crystal clarity of her voice, the gentle curl of her dark hair, her brown eyes that came alive in the spotlight. He heard a soft muffled sound near him. As expected it was Angelique who, yet unexpectedly, had a rather large dead rat in her mouth. She placed the cadaver down in front of her and pushed it toward Erik with her nose. "Why do you give me these things? I don't want it," he whispered to her. She stared at him with wide eyes.

"What?" _You Moron_, said the voice, _can't you see the fluffy one is trying to tell you that the rat-catcher isn't doing his job?_ It was right, there shouldn't be any rats in sight and he paid more than enough to Maurice, the rum-soaked rat catcher, to do such a simple job. He didn't want to leave Christine's rehearsal but he'd be damned if he let anyone think the Opera Ghost could be cheated.

"Watch over Christine. Make sure that idiot Vicomte doesn't come near her," he commanded the feline as he began to balance and jump along the beams. The black cat meowed questionably, the dead rodent in her fangs again. "You know where to hide the evidence of your heinous crimes," he told his fluffy companion with a smile and walked on to the dark, cold catacombs.

Angelique stayed on the beam, watching him descend. Once he was safely out of sight, Angelique glanced down at her master's angel on the stage and noticed how the mean lady with the funny speech kept rolling her eyes whenever the angel sang the high notes with hardly any effort. The mischievous cat hurried down the beams with a hurried determination.

-

Maurice was found lying on the filthy sewer floor underground. Erik wasn't surprised to see the half empty rum bottle the round man held onto as he slept, like how a little girl clings onto her doll. A rat scuttled nearby Maurice's face, he opened his eyes, saw the rat and drifted to sleep again. In angered annoyance, Erik snatched the heavy bottle from his arms and smashed it on Maurice's face, shattering the glass into his skin and to the floor. Maurice sprang to his feet, screaming and shouting from the burn of the alcohol in the open cuts. Erik stood back a moment to enjoy the man's agony.

The Opera Ghost's darted from beneath the cloak to grab Maurice's throat in a deadly grip. He pushed the small man to the wall, never releasing his neck and forced his head back to meet his fiery stare. The immense anger seemed to make his eyes glow menacingly in the dark which made Maurice gasp, wide-eyed. "I gave you a simple task, one task! Keep the rats away from my home and the theater. I think I pay you more than enough to have that done, don't you agree?" Erik hissed. "Monsieur..." his voice strangled, "you have... yet t-to... Pay me."  
>"I paid you yesterday, useless drunk!" Erik roared as he lifted the man off his feet by his neck. With a choking groan, Maurice laughed, "if I was useless, you wouldn't be paying so much to keep me here, would you?" Erik had already made up his mind but he pretended to act defeated and let the man drop to the wet cobblestone. The man sat up on the stone edge of the sewer's river and playfully kicked in the filthy water. "I've heard you singing," slurred Maurice. "Have you?" asked Erik, taking out a dagger from his belt. "Yeah," the rat catcher coughed, "with the girl. Strange though, you having the face of a demon and yet an angel's voice... Both of you have the voices of angels... But she looks like the angel she sounds..." Erik smiled slightly, "yes... She is truly heaven sent." Maurice laughed loudly, "good luck getting her to open her legs for you."<p>

"Excuse me?" Erik's hand tightened on the dagger.

"Well yes," he chuckled, "a beautiful girl like could never open her heart for an ugly son of a bitch like you, unless she were blind. So you're better off getting into her skirts. You mind as well be Don Juan!" Maurice let out a loud mocking laugh before Erik slashed his throat viciously from ear to ear, letting the blood flow out like a fountain into the water below. He grabbed the choking man's skull and turned it to a snap then letting the lifeless body fall into the sewer like the waste he was. Erik let his breathing settle back to normal, trying his hardest to shake off his words. He cleaned the blade with a handkerchief with a careless shrug as he walked away.

Angelique watched the rehearsal continue from the rafters. She kept a close eye on Christine as her master ordered though she wasn't exactly sure who this "Vicomte" was. Many men looked onto Christine suspiciously but she couldn't really make any pin-points. As Christine finished her scene, the company roared into applause. Christine knew it was because some... well most... alright, the whole company wanted Carlotta out of the Opera and wanted to give the diva such a hint.

Christine, though terrified, gave a small smile and bowed her head. Carlotta strutted onto the stage holding her hand out to Christine, she took it, "Hai fatto molto bene, Signorina Daae." Christine continued to smile but furrowed her brow slightly, she didn't understand Italian and wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult, most likely an insult. "You did well, Mlle Daae." Surprise, surprise, a compliment! "Oh, thank you," said Christine, "your opinion matters greatly." She could care less but she noticed that Carlotta wouldn't let go of her hand. "As it should," Carlotta said darkly, "I understand you are performing my role in the matinee as well? I hope you do well and that the Lord keeps you in good health. It would be such a shame if you took ill and couldn't perform." As soon as the words hit the air, Carlotta squeezed Christine's hand in a painful grip. Christine sucked in a harsh breath through her nostrils and clenched her jaw. What shook Carlotta was that the little twit's face didn't change. The Diva then dug her nails into Christine's skin, making her wince slightly.

At that precise moment, Christine had a small flashback of her father returning home angry a rehearsal with a local symphony. He told her, "Don't you dare let anyone tell you that you couldn't do something you know you are talented in. Never let anyone push you out of your dreams." Another flashback emerged of her crying in her dressing room due to Carlotta's vicious remarks and hearing her, then angel, Erik tell her that Carlotta was actually terrified of her and hoped to scare her out of the way. "Yes," Christine said, "It would be unfortunate if I couldn't perform..." Christine tightened her grip as well as her voice, "... _but I will_." Carlotta raised surprised eyebrows as they released hands.

The diva gave the fakest smile, "Buona Fortuna." Carlotta purposely knocked her shoulder hard into Christine's as she walked past her, making Christine lose her balance. Christine turned to watch her walk away and feeling Meg approach to stand next to her, "Meg, would you like to help me write my will and plan my funeral arrangements?"

"It was a bluff?"

Christine nodded, looking down to the wooden stage floor. Meg sighed as they both looked to watch Carlotta walk further into the wings. "Look at her," said Meg, "waddling away like the molding Italian meatball she is." The two girls shared a smile before letting out a contained giggle. Meg wrapped her arm around Christine to turn her toward her dressing room, "Come, let's write a catchy epitaph for you."

As they walked, they heard the rest of the corps de ballet making a huge fuss and crowding around in a circle. Chris turned to Meg questioningly but she only shrugged. As they walked to the huddled girls, they heard them saying "It's so soft! And awfully kind! I'm going to keep it! I know where to get food! Where will we hide it from Madame Giry? We'll just get a box! I'll name it Don Francisco!" As the duo squeezed through to look at this supposed "Francisco", Christine smiled to see that it was just Angelique being cradled by an animal loving ballerina name Amelie. The contented cat was rained with a caress from each of the girls and arching shamelessly to each touch. "Put it down!" Meg gasped. "Yes, it might have fleas," Desirae agreed, another ballerina. "No! That's the Opera Ghost's cat," corrected Meg.

A gasp was heard from the girls as some halted to pet the notorious feline's fur. "Oh please Meg, not your 'Opera Ghost' shit again," said Antoinette. One thing that always annoyed Christine was that each and every one of them had such a colorful vocabulary, especially Meg. "'Don't go into the cellars! The Opera Ghost lives down there! Don't go into the shadows, He's there too!'" said Antoinette, imitating Meg. "Well, it's true!" Meg exclaimed. "No," said Antoinette, lowering her voice, "You just don't anyone to catch you with the new scenic painter, Tristan." the crowd of girls erupted to a loud "oooh" turning Meg's doll features to a bright pink. "You have no evidentiary support to claim such a ridiculous statement!" Meg practically yelled. As Meg continued to defend herself, Christine noticed a small rosebud-shaped mark on the skin of Meg's neck that was almost completely covered by her blonde hair. ".. And therefore I would never do such things, Right Chris?"

Christine shifted her attention to Meg's face and turned to the group of girls staring at her waiting for an answer. She nodded her head firmly knowing she was a terrible liar when she wasn't on a stage. "See?" said Meg, relieved. "Right..." said Antoinette, still not convinced, "and what makes you believe He belongs to the Opera Ghost?" "She," Christine corrected without a thought. All the ballerinas turned to her, even Meg cast a confused glance. "I mean," Christine stammered, "... just look at how she holds her head high... like a... queen or princess. It must be a she!" As they all focused their attention to Angelique, the cat lifted her head in a regal pose.

"Girls!" Madame Giry shouted making all the ballerinas jump, especially Meg. As they all began to hurry off to their ballet mistress, Christine offered Amelie, "Here, I'll take her," and took Angelique into her arms. Meg was about to take off when Christine quickly grabbed her arm, "wait your ribbon is askew." Meg turned around for her to fix the white satin ribbon in her hair but as Christine pulled all her hair together and saw the mark on her neck, Christine barely tapped her finger on the love-mark making Meg flinch.

"Ow! What was that for?" asked Meg. "Tristan? Really? I thought you didn't like him?" Christine inquired. Tristan the Scenic Painter - which is what he'd be called if this were a fanficiction of Fiddler on the Roof - was a small boy but taller than Meg and had really short stubby legs. However he did have an amazing talent for art and detail though surprisingly he wasn't the brightest spotlight in the theater. "Well," shrugged Meg, "after a while, male stupidity kind of becomes adorable." Christine couldn't help but think of Raoul at that moment.

"Speak of the morons," said Meg beginning to walk away, "here comes Raoul." Damn it! Christine didn't have time for this! She wanted to be with Erik sooner to practice the Aria again or at least that's what she tried to tell herself. "Christine," said Raoul, placing a hand on her exposed shoulder. _Who is this man who dare lay a hand on Christine and who smells of womanly lavender,_ thought Angelique. "Oh, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Christine. _Vicomte! So it's you, _Angelique narrowed her eyes to the Vicomte's every move. "Don't call me that," chuckled Raoul, "keeps me at such a distance. I wasn't born a Vicomte, you know." Christine said, "Technically, you kind of were." Raoul paused to think, "Well I suppose, but I wasn't always Vicomte to you." "You kind of were," repeated Christine.

"Right," said Raoul, confused. He placed his hand over hers_. I warn you, Monsieur, you touch my master's angel again and I'll rip your face off; I don't often give threats but when I do, you better heed,_ thought Angelique. "Christine," said Raoul, "there is something I want to talk to you about, something very important. Not right now though, after your rehearsal tomorrow on the rooftop."

"The rooftop?" asked Christine, "what is it?" Raoul answered, "It's the top of a building but that's not important right now," Angelique rolled her eyes; "I understand you have your lesson now?" Christine nodded excitedly. As he spoke, his fingertips grazed her cheek, "Good night, Chisti-" With a loud yowl, Angelique swung her claw at the Vicomte's face, barely missing. Christine backed away clutching the angry cat close to herself, "I'm so sorry." "Friend of yours?" asked Raoul. "Yes," she said tried to calm the growling animal, "I best be off. Good night, Monsieur."

As Christine hurried off to her dressing room, Raoul gave a small wave and went on his way. Half way to her room, Christine heard some shuffling far off beside her. She took a few steps backwards and looked into the shadows to find Meg kissing with Tristan Stubby Legs - which is what he'd be called if this were a Native American Folktale. Christine rolled her eyes and continued walking. As soon as she entered her dressing room, her hands immediately went to the clasps of her ridiculous costume gown to change into her regular gown. Angelique meowed loudly, Christine turned to find the feline sitting in front of the mirror. She stopped, Erik wouldn't be there watching, would he? Did she even mind if he was? No, girls didn't want fallen angels to be watching them undress behind mirrors... and yet...

Erik was making frantic gestures behind the glass toward Angelique, whispering, "Go! Damn cat, go over there!" He saw that Christine halted her actions and sighed as he turned his back toward her. The fluffy one was right, he should be a gentleman and yet... He hesitantly glanced over his shoulder in time to see her brush the gown off her shoulders. He was sure he forgot to breathe when his hungry eyes trailed the soft skin over the curve of her shoulders and to the smooth column of her neck. At that moment Christine felt sudden warmth around the area of her ear and turned to the mirror. Erik immediately looked away to the cold darkness, suddenly embarrassed.

He took a deep breath to regulate his pounding heart while Christine hurried to finish dressing. She made a few finishing touches to her hair before she called out, "Erik?" He was waiting for his body to subside before he could answer her back and forced himself to think of his work to help himself. "_Ange_?" she called softly. He threw his hands up in the air, that wasn't helping at all.

After long minutes went by, the mirror finally turned on its pivot to reveal Erik in all his other worldly majesty and elegance. She noticed how his eyes trailed over her body; she shivered as if he actually touched her. He noticed how her eyes did the same to him, his jaw tightened to keep control. He cleared his throat, "shall we continue on to your lesson?" He offered his hand to her on instinct and was shocked when she took it. Angelique followed obediently behind them.

-

"You doing fine, I don't understand what is giving you so much lack of nerve to perform it, " said Erik, while sitting at the piano."Carlotta-" "Forget her, she isn't worth anyone's time or thought, especially yours," encouraged Erik. He struck a few chords for her, "Let's go over the bridge onto the rest of the song." Angelique was watching them from her favorite corner in the entrance of the hallway; she didn't feel like doing anything mischievous after her deeds today. Meanwhile, Carlotta was screaming in her home to find a dead rat in her favorite muff. Angelique sighed happily to herself and continued to listen to the angel's music.

Suddenly, Erik stopped midway into the last chorus and pressed his fingertips to his mask, it was too tight and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. "Did I do something wrong?" asked Christine nervously. "No, no" said Erik "My mask is just... It's hurting me." He got up to walk to the kitchen to take it off for a moment. "You can loosen it around me, you know," said Christine lightly. He stopped to face her, leaning against the piano. Was it really obvious he didn't trust her? Feeling a small twinge of guilt, he looked into her eyes, asking permission and she nodded slightly. He raised his arms but was held back by his coat. He let his arms fall to his sides, embarrassed and then began to take off his jacket, revealing his red vest and black shirt.

Erik didn't notice but Christine was trying to memorize this scene of him removing his jacket. What was wrong with her? She never did this before but now she couldn't look away. He threw his jacket to the couch behind her and attempted to reach for his mask's binding again. He unbuckled it and said "I won't take it off, I promise. I'm just lifting it forward a little so my face can have some kind of relief." She nodded as he buckled it again one hole lesser than usual and he sighed with comfort.

Angelique meanwhile was eyeing a rat that had been hiding under his throne. _If Christine sees it, she'll never come back._ The cat bolted across the floor to the sitting room, bumping hard into Christine on the way. Christine tried to gain her balance again but only fell forward against Erik's body as well as her lips against his. His eyes shot wide open and met her equally wide eyes. They stared at each other, too shocked and too amazed to move or to think. His hands clutched onto the edge of the piano behind him while his eyes wandered over the features of her face, the warmth of her soft lips. Her eyes become lost in the deep caverns of his eyes to find the endless treasures of emerald and sapphire gems, his lips felt different not like hers but she wanted to learn more.

Erik caught movement in the sitting room and saw Angelique fussing around under his chair. He tore his lips from her suddenly angry, "Stupid cat!" He tried to go after the cat but Christine caught him by the collar and pulled him to her lips again. Erik eyes studied her in utter disbelief at her forwardness and at the indiscrete hunger in her eyes. She saw a certain fire blaze in his stare that seemed to burn her to her core. Erik wrapped her arms around her waist, hesitantly and brought her flush against him. His eyes closed in marvel over the warmth and softness gave a small moan against her mouth. Dear God this was heaven! Christine let her eyes flutter to a close and wrapped her arms slowly around his neck.

_Finally, got ya!_ Angelique got the dead rat in her mouth and raised her head to see if Christine noticed. The rat carcass fell out of her mouth, unnoticed. _What the hell did I miss,_ Angelique thought, shocked. Erik applied a gentle pressure against her lips and was thrilled to feel her press back. She moved her lips against his and he followed her lead. His hands trailed up and down her spine and she instinctively arched against him. She felt the dagger from his belt dig into her skirts but she didn't care, she didn't want this to end. They were both under the sweet intoxication of desire's drug, he wanted to further the kiss but wasn't sure if the mask would allow it. Her fingers threaded through the thick hair on the back of his head along his scalp, he shuddered violently and dug his fingertips hard into her waist pressed her firmer to himself. She whimpered silently but only loved it more.

With her inspiration, he dared let his tongue enter her mouth gently for a taste. In response, her hands grasped his hair, tugging it to press his skull closer if possible, moving her tongue along his. His hand traveled up her spine slowly and he let his cold fingers caress the back of her neck, his other following the same movement. Without any warning, he grabbed her shoulders and forced her away from himself, a safe distance. His breaths were uneven as hers were heavy.

Unable to look at her, he hurried to the piano bench, "Let's get back to that bridge before it burns." He cleared his throat realizing how hoarse and rough it had become. He raised his hands to play the chords but they were shaking violently and he couldn't bring them to the correct position. He fisted his hands brought them down to his thighs. "Better yet," his voice shaky and rough still, "let's take a break." She nodded and headed to her room on weak knees; she passed a small table and quickly glanced at his dagger resting there.

"Christine," he called. She turned to face him but he quickly turned away, "_bolt your door_," he said softly. She continued on to her room and noticed the large bolts she never saw before. Once they were locked in place, she jumped onto the bed, immediately clinging to a large pillow. Wait... If the dagger was on the table in the hallway the whole time ...then what...? Her face turned to a bright red when her innocent (?) mind fitted the pieces together.

Erik tried his hardest to get his legs to pick himself up to walk. He nearly ran to his room in a near frenzy and into his bath chambers. He grabbed a small bowl, filling it to the brim with ice cold water and taking off his black tie, hurriedly, mumbling, "It's a dream, all a hopeless dream, none of this really happened, no one would ever want a monster," tie off, he moved onto his mask, "you'll wake up before your face reaches the water, you'll see." Though the water was cold, to his face he knew it would burn and sting but anything to get him to wake up from this dream. He looked at the bowl and then plunged his face into the icy water. He immediately brought his face up, groaning at the pain from the sores and from the suddenly real kiss...


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Christine stayed in her room, trying to contemplate everything that just happened, everything she felt. What did she feel? It was a sudden burning, deep inside her core. She felt fear with a hint of eagerness and hunger. Uncontrollable hunger! What she was hungry for, she had no clue. This unknown feeling has left her limbs shaking and asking for more. She wanted to learn and to understand all of Erik.

Erik... What was he thinking, she wondered. Would he regret all of this? She felt the hunger in him too. The unusual texture of his lips, odd at fist but then so very soft. Almost like silk, softer even. The feel of his hands along her back, his cold fingers along her neck, his firm and hard body against hers. Just remembering the sensations his touch brought sent shivers all over.

Then there was silence, a deathly silence all over the house that made Christine's hands shake. Could something be wrong with Erik? He asked her to bolt her door but for what? She he wouldn't hurt her... would he?

As soon as the thought came to her, she heard her name called, "_Christine..._" "Erik?" she asked. For a moment, though utterly ridiculous, she thought perhaps someone else was calling her. "_Open your door,_" he said. This voice... it was him but at the same time it wasn't. It was rough and gravely, like a jagged rock. Bolt the door, he said. "_Christine, open the door_," he said again more sternly. Christine sank into the bed hugging a pillow tight. She felt a knot twisting in her stomach and a lump growing in her throat.

There was yet another long silence. Long minutes went by until all Christine could hear was the sound of her own nervous breathing and the rhythm of her heart. Maybe he went to his room... She got up slowly and walked lightly toward the floor, trying her hardest not to make any sound. She held her breath as she approached the heavy door, turning her head so she could press her ear to door. Closer and closer she leaned her head in but she hesitated. Once she got her nerve again, she leaned closed once more. She took in a breath to call his name again... she never did.

Just as her head was about to rest entirely on the wooden door, Erik slammed into the door hard with an angry shout, making her gasp and jump back in horror. She heard ragged breathing, "Christine, open this door _now_!" he screamed. She felt tears welling in her eyes, She walked back a safe distance, there was no way he could come in with those bolts. He pounded the door again with such a strength that seemed almost inhuman. She concluded that he must be running into the door with his whole body. Again the door shook from his power, again and again, he seemed to be getting stronger with every try. Christine began to cry and cling to herself, praying that the door would keep him out.

She wanted to go home, this wasn't her Erik, this was something else. She shut her eyes; hoping that when she opened them again she'd be in bed and hearing Erik play his beautiful music in the sitting room. Her eyes shot open with the sound of the top bolt becoming loose. One more shove and it fell to the carpeted floor with a loud thud. Erik slammed into the door again, it opened enough for him to glimpse inside the room, his raging eyes looking for Christine. When they found her, she felt as though she was looking into the eyes of an animal. He was breathing heavy, almost snarling like a wolf at his prey.

With a loud growl, He ran full force into the door knocking it off its hinges as he tumbled inside the room. She screamed and tried run out the doorway but he caught her by the arm and pulled her to himself. Her hair fell loose during her struggle, she tried to fight but he was too strong. Her nails dug into her shoulders as she fought, he growled through clenched teeth, "Yes, make your own marks on this beaten body, just like the rest of your kind. All of man has tried to kill me, throw away the one mistake that has been put on this earth! But why? Why am I the mistake that is so abhorred and must be destroyed on first sight? All I did was enter the world and already I was shunned by everyone, even my own mother! Why? Oh yes, because of _this_!" he hissed as he pointed to his mask.

With one of his hands gone, she nearly escaped his grasp but he quickly wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her back making her body flush against his. In Erik's mind flashed memories of his tortured childhood, "A monster they called me! How can a small child be a monster when all he does is simply breath! I showed them my music, my art, my unbelievable abilities to show them that underneath monster lies a human being!" His voice choked, Christine saw tears falling over the mask. He yelled, "That was I was a human being with feelings, with logic, _with a heart_! I tried so hard to make everyone happy; I became sick and tired of it! I was tired of being called a monster for nothing, so I decided to give them all a damn good reason to call me that!"

Nearly out of breath with his crushing hold, she cried "Erik, please stop this! Please, you're frightening me" He gave a sinister laugh, "Yes, I seem to have that effect on the weak. Monsters don't care though, if they don't like something, they get rid of it. If they are afraid of something, they destroy it. If they want something, _they take it_!" Before she could comprehend what he said, he pushed her hard by the shoulders, making her fall back on her bed. He followed her, climbing atop of her and pinning her arms and legs with his own. She felt his cold wet shirt press against her chest and his hardened desire against her body at which she gasped. His blazing eyes stared deep into hers, "Since the moment I first heard you sing, my mind begged for your voice, my heart ached to belong to yours, and my body burned to an inferno to make you mine!" Maurice's words played in his head, "but you could never love a monster..." Christine tried her hardest to speak, "I never called you a monster, Erik! Please stop this."

"Don't lie to me!" he snapped. He harshly brought both of her wrists above her head and pinned them down to the mattress. He leaned in close to hiss in her ear, "Your eyes said it all! When they saw my face, your eyes screamed monster, demon and every other atrocity that has been bestowed on me and how it hurt me to my very soul." Christine felt a slight twinge of courage, "Erik, please stop! This isn't you, I know it isn't!" A wicked smile spread across his masked face, he said with a chuckle, "Oh, you are _just beginning to know me_."

He slammed his mouth hard onto hers with a bruising kiss while the edge of his mask dug into her upper lip. He forced his tongue between her lips, exploring every bit of her mouth as he cold, arching his hips into hers. At this point, Christine was his willing victim. She arched her body into his making him growl deep in his chest. He gathered both of her wrists into one of his large hands then with his free hand; he ran his fingers through her silken brown hair, dragging his fingernails along her scalp, just as she did to him earlier. He grasped her hair and yanked hard, forcing her head back as he dragged his lips in a constant kiss down the smooth column of her neck.

Every touch from him was like a lightning bolt, surging through her body and into her veins. In some odd way, she didn't want this end but... no, this wasn't right, "Erik, stop please. You're frightening me," she asked breathlessly. He asked against her skin, "This frightens you?" his voice still rough and deep. "Well, I'm not sure frightening is the right word," she gasped using all her effort to ignore his hot mouth. She could swear she felt him smile on her skin, she continued, "Erik, you're not a monster! Your face doesn't make you a monster in my eyes, it's your actions," her words were cut off by a small whimper of delight as his lips moved onto her collarbone. "Be glad I'm not doing this without my mask," He whispered. Are you deaf, she screamed in her head getting frustrated? With whatever strength she had left, she slipped her wrists from his hold and held his head between her hands. "Weren't you just listening? I said you face doesn't make you a monster, it's your _actions_!" As she spoke, all the rage and fire had died in his eyes. He looked almost, dare she consider it, scared.

"My actions..." he repeated like a child. A wave of sense fell over him along with a tsunami of guilt, "Christine..." Just then Angelique jumped on his back, clawing at him. _You big, overgrown, stupid idiot! What the hell is wrong you, breaking down doors and attacking Christine like this? Why if my paws were bigger, I'd slap your carcass face silly!_ Angelique hung on as he stood up to get her off; he spun around to get her to fall off but no success. With Angelique in tow, he jumped over the fallen door to his room to grab the bowl of cold water he had left earlier. He threw the bowl over his shoulder making the icy water splash over his back and the aggravated feline. The drenched cat reluctantly jumped off and scurried to Christine. He entered Christine's room again to find Angelique being cradled in her arms.

Their eyes met, he was soaked to the skin and she was breathless. What could possibly be said between them now? "Christine... I'm... I'm s-so... I'm s-sorry..."

Christine didn't know what to say, what could she say? Was it wrong for her to kind of actually enjoy what he almost did? She began to walk to the doorway, stepping over the fallen door as Erik watched her in pained horror. No, she couldn't mean to leave to him, dear God, what had he done? As she walked passed him, he reached for her arm, calling her desperately, "Christine." Before his hand could touch her, Angelique turned furiously, hissing at him like a fluffy black viper. Angelique never hissed at him and Christine wouldn't acknowledge him. She walked down the hall hurriedly toward the door, Erik again on the verge of tears, "Christine, _please_!" She stopped at before the door when she heard the utter pain in his voice. Should she leave? What he did was... but he couldn't control it, no, he could've controlled it if he tried! This sounds familiar, she thought to herself. Wasn't this what her guilt was telling her when she pulled away his mask? She was curious, she couldn't help it! She could've stopped herself. The more she thought about it, she was certain that Erik had thought the same thing about her and was hearing it now again from his own conscience. He gave her a second chance...

"Please don't go..." He said quietly, his voice shaky. She slowly turned to face him and saw the tears streaming down the mask, he wouldn't look at her. Her attention shifted to the shivering animal still in her arms and headed to the sitting room. Surprised that he didn't hear the door click for her exit, he looked up confusedly and saw her walk to the hearth. He took a few steps following her into the sitting room, watching her place a large Persian pillow, which was used as Angelique's bed, by the fire and then placed the tired cat on top. Christine sat on the floor beside the drowsy cat and stared into the fire.

Erik was already certain that she would never want to talk or see him again, that she would never want him to be a part of her life and consider all of this forgotten. He started to head for his room when the sound of her voice stopped him, "I don't understand..." He turned to face her but she was still looking into the fire. "Why? Why did you become that way? We kissed. It may not have been at our own choice," She said as she glanced at the already asleep black-furred trouble-maker, "but we did." "Then you kissed me," he finished for her. "And you kissed back," she added, "Was it not wanted?" He began to take small steps toward her, "Christine, you have to understand, Love is a very powerful thing, dangerous when combined with the element of raw desire. Especially for a man whose only physical contact with a human being was a handshake good bye." Why didn't he say 'another human', she wondered. "Love and Desire can make people do a lot of things," he said, "like break down bolted doors." "And kiss Opera Ghosts," she said quietly to herself. Though his heart beamed at her silent admission, it was immediately crushed by a large heavy boulder with the word GUILT written on it. He bravely sat down next to her on the carpeted floor. He said as he wrapped his arms around folded knees, "What happened today will never be repeated. I don't expect you to forgive me as I will never forgive myself for attacking you like a savage animal. If you wish to never return after I bring you back tomorrow morning, I understand."

She began to think, the she said "You gave me a second chance after I pulled away your mask, why?" In the smallest voice and turning to face her, he simply said, "Because I love you." She had the strongest urge to wrap her arms around him and give him a big re-assuring hug but she wasn't going to let him off that easily. "I'll forgive you but I'm not going to let you off that easily." See? I told you. He titled his head to the side in question. She explained, "I'll make a deal with you: because you scared the living daylights out of me, you have to do everything I ask of you to do for two nights, starting tonight." She could tell immediately that he was trying to stay calm at her ridiculous request. He said in a tight voice, "That sounds a little degrading, don't you think?" She said, "You already do so much for me and I would never make you do anything that I wouldn't do. I would only do that to Meg." She was hoping her little joke would at least make him smile but he just only looked concerned. "And," she added with an optimistic tone, "If you do the little favors I ask, after the two days, I'll reward you. He rolled his eyes, "How?"

"Any way I want."

She heard him swallow hard. He looked at her in surprise and she gave a small smile. Did he dare let himself hope again? She held out her hand to him, waiting to maybe shake on it. He looked at her hand, then at her, then back to her hand. He closed his eyes shut and shook her hand in agreement. What in God's name did I just set myself up for, he asked himself though it was wonderful to see a beautiful beaming smile on her face.

"Now that we're all settled," she said excitedly while getting up to stand, "May we have dinner?" He looked up at her and gave her a small smile, "Of course. And what would the diva princess like to eat?" He teased. She lifted her chin, feigning royalty, "the diva princess would love that delightful chicken dish you had made the other night. It was the most exquisite!" She said giving him a bigger smile. He lightly bowed his head, mirroring her smile, "As you wish."

After the dinner, He worked on his opera for a while and Christine... Erik couldn't decipher if she was writing in her journal or perhaps sketching? Long minutes went by until Erik finally decided to stop composing for the night. "Erik?" asked Christine. "Hmm?" "The other night you played your violin so beautifully and I was wondering if..." she hesitated, "if you could perhaps play something for me?" He took a deep sigh, "and what would you like to hear?" after a thought, she answered, "A lullaby, for me to keep in my memory."

He left to his room to retrieve his violin and was already tuning it as he walked back to the room. "This melody is nothing elaborate but it was always one of my favorites" he said. She smiled at him as he brought the violin under his chin. He began to play a slow and beautiful waltz. He swayed his body with the music just as the music swayed her on its sweet and gentle tide. She closed her eyes and saw his music in swirls and waves of colors. His eyes closed as well lost in the music he was creating. As he brought the song to a close, she slowly opened her eyes and smiled to him. "What song is that?" she asked. "It's a Russian folksong. I learned it to make money while I was hiding there" he said. "Hiding?" she asked concerned. Immediately regretting his slip of mouth, he said, "It's a long story and not a very pleasant one." She wasn't going to force him to tell her. "You should be getting to bed," he said quietly. She nodded and headed for her room. Wait, he thought, her door...

He turned to find her trying to lift the heavy door off the floor with very little success. "Christine, please don-"

"Erik, I can do this."

"I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I can do it."

She lifted the door a few inches a number of times before she finally just let it drop to the floor with a loud bang. "Would you like me to pick it up for you now?" she nodded reluctantly. He bent to the floor and lifted the door without hardly any effort that made her jaw drop. He put the door in place, still off its hinges and turned to give her a prideful smile. "Show off," she said under her breath but loud enough for him to hear. He chuckled in his throat, "good night, princess." As he turned to leave she stopped him, "wait... um... May I ... may I have a good night kiss?"


	9. Chapter 9

A bit of an author's note; there's a song in which I wrote Erik's nightmare to. If you would like to listen to said song to get the intensity of his dream as well as the pace, the song is called Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. Enjoy! (All rights belong to Avenged Sevenfold)

Chapter 9

She still wants a kiss, Erik asked in his mind. Could she possibly still trust him? If she did then she is certainly more naive than he had believed. He didn't trust himself to kiss her again so he turned away from her while walking to his bedroom door. Just as his hand was about to turn the knob, he suddenly remembered the deal he had made with her. Christine was hurt by his obvious rejection but she knew why he did it. She could use the deal to force him but, to be honest; she wasn't exactly sure what would happen either.

Lost in her train of thought, she didn't notice when he had turned about to face her. He hesitantly walked to her while his eyes were fixated to the floor. Christine's knees felt weak from anticipation when he finally met her stare. Erik looked so scared and nervous, he reminded her of a terrified young man about to give his first kiss and, to be frank, that's just how he felt. He lifted his hand to gently glide his fingertips through her hair but his uncertainty showed in his quivering hand and he immediately retracted it.

He kept his fisted hands at his sides and straightened his posture, taking deep breaths. He simply stared at her for long minutes, trying his hardest to gain his courage for one simple kiss. Finally, he slowly began to lean close as his eyes kept moving from her lips to her eyes as though asking for permission. Only in his fantasies had he ever thought he would be kissing her good night. She focused on the brilliant colors of his mismatched eyes. Soon she began to feel his breath on her upper lip. Her eyes began to flutter close when she slightly puckered her lips expectantly for his. They felt each other's warm breaths, the cold nose of his mask brushed hers, but just as their lips were about to touch, he looked at the beautiful features of her face and looked down to floor. He couldn't do it.

Not feeling his kiss, Christine opened her eyes in confusion and saw him staring at the floor in self-disappointment. She took in a breath to tell him he didn't have to kiss her when suddenly he pressed a tender kiss to her nose. He kept it there for a moment, her eyes closed as she savored his sweet gesture. She could feel his lips trembling against her nose and then he pulled away, opening his eyes. He glanced at her but as they made eye-contact, his eyes quickly looked away. "Good night, Christine" he said in a small, shaky voice to the floor.

Christine smiled at him as she grabbed his shaking hand to press a small kiss to his knuckles. "Good night, Erik," She said, sweetly. She caught a hint of a smile on his lips as he turned away to his room and closed the door behind him. She grabbed the knob to her own door and pushed back, forgetting it was off the hinges until the full weight of the door was pulling her arm. She caught the door from the other side trying her hardest to push it back to the way Erik had it standing. Once there, She left to her bathroom and indulged in a hot bath.

Across the hall Erik was doing the same, only in freezing cold water. Erik gathered water into his large hands to splash in face but as he did so, he only felt the water on his jaw. Ugh, he hated it when he forgot he had the damned mask on! He unbuckled it off and tossed it carefully to the sink. He dipped his hand into the cold water and raised it to his face, letting the coldness burn his scars and still hoping in an odd way that all of this was still just a dream. He looked at the spot where Christine kissed on his hand and smiled to himself. He took joy to the thought that she asked him for a kiss but... had he asked for a kiss... would she have done it? He asked for a kiss once...

Erik's mind had taken him back to that small cottage in the French countryside, 28-some years ago. A very young Erik was sitting in the attic looking outside the small round window, watching the other children play games and walk with their parents to through the small village. He saw another small boy running about with his mother shouting behind him to slow-down. The boy had been running so fast, he tripped over his own foot and tumbled into the dirt. Erik laughed quietly to himself at the child's clumsiness  
>but his mocking was soon silenced at what he saw next.<p>

The mother bent down to her crying son and scolded him for not listening to her, of course. She looked at his hands which were scraped and bleeding then tended to his wounds. Erik's stomach began to turn in pure envy, anytime he injured himself, his parents told him what to do to take care of it himself or that woman Marie, who helped Mama around the house, would care to him but even then she'd be terrified to have to touch him. After the boy's mother had picked helped him stand from the ground, she bent down to tell him something and he nodded, still crying. She kissed the boy's tears on his cheek and he smiled up at her.

Kisses must heal in a sort of way. Erik began to think, he looked for a sharp object nearby but he couldn't find anything. He somehow tripped and felt a sharp pain in his hand. He turned over his hand a saw a large splinter from the wooden floor. He sat up and tried to remove the splinter himself but his nails were too short. This must be that Indian belief he read in his father's book. What was it called? It had to deal with consequence and doing good or something to that extent. He remembered it reminded him the word caramel... Oh well, he'll just call it caramel. This must be caramel. He got up to walk downstairs but as the door let in a slight breeze, he remembered his mask was off and quickly retrieved it. He buckled it in place as best as he could as he walked down the stairs and headed to his mother.

He found her in the sitting room reading. She was a very beautiful young woman, dark brown hair, cobalt blue eyes and sun-kissed skin. He hesitated before calling her softly, "Mama?" Her eyes closed in irritation, "What is it, now?" she asked sharply. "I... I-I have a splinter in my hand. I-It hurts" he said. She got up with a huff of annoyance. While walking to the kitchen she scolded, "What did I tell you about stuttering? You're a creature as it is we don't you to be talking like a babbling idiot." She grabbed him by his sleeve and nearly dragged him with her to the kitchen where she grabbed a rag from the counter and used it to grab his hand to inspect it. Erik hated it when she would do that, he knew it was because she'd rather touch a filthy piece of material than touch him. He nails would have been suffice to pull the splinter out but she told him, "Go upstairs and get the tweezers, you already know what to do. There's no need for you to be bothering me like this."

He reluctantly walked upstairs to get rid of the splinter himself. He couldn't get himself to just remove it, it was rather large and it was making his hand turn red. He walked back to his mother and held out the tweezers to her. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes, "Did you at least try?"

"Y-yes b-but... I... I-"

"Stop stuttering! Speak Right!" she yelled. He cringed and nodded. She sighed heavily and snatched the tweezers from his hand, "You're so useless. God knows what atrocity I did to deserve you." It's called caramel, you ignorant slut, he thought. Only in his mind was he brave enough to talk with such vulgarity that he learned from his father and the drunken old man that lived nearby. She grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket, just like the other mother, and held his hand in hers with the cotton material in between. She clasped the splinter with the tweezers and pulled without care or gentleness. He winced and felt tears well in his eyes but blinked them away. "There," she said. He pressed his thumb over his palm where the splinter had been and began to think, "M-May I have a-a..."

"What do you want?" She asked harshly.

He took a deep breath trying to control his words, "May I have a kiss?" Her eyes widened and she looked away from his, "Erik, you must never ask that ever again."

Erik felt that sudden heat invade him, he screamed, "Why! Why can't I even ask for a kiss? All the other children get them without a second thought and with me it's almost a sin!" It made him happy to see his mother jump at his change of voice, the Voice always made her scared and weak like everyone else, it made him feel like a fearful king. He felt brave, "And another thing, Why do I have to wear this mask? No one else has to wear one, why must I?" He unbuckled the mask with a swift hand and threw it at her with incredible force. She blocked it with her arms and kept her eyes away from him. He heard the Voice in his head, coming from the mask's direction, telling him what to say, "Why? Answer me!"

"B-Because you're a-"

_Tell her to look at you_, said the Voice. "Look at me!" He yelled. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard, "You're a m-monster! You have the face of a monster, th-that's why! Don't you ever t-talk to me like that or else I'll leave you to your f-father!" Erik looked at her wide-eyed and shocked, "You stutter too," he said so softly it was almost merely an exhale, "And I'm the babbling idiot?"

She abruptly raised her hand and slapped him hard across his face, bringing him back to reality in the tub of cold water in his underground home. He hurried through his bath to get to bed.

Christine was already finished and in bed. She tried to push her mind to sleep but with the door slightly opened, the cold chill from the lake breezed in her room and made it extremely cold, it reminded her of Erik's touch. She tossed and turned to try a warm and comfortable position. Erik was in his black satin pajamas and placed his mask on the night stand beside his bed, climbing under the sheets.

For about two and a half hours, they both just simply lay there in the dark staring up at the ceiling. Christine tried to hum quietly to herself the Russian folksong he played for her but didn't sound correct the way she hummed it. Erik rolled to his left side. He didn't like it so he turned to his right. That didn't seem right either. To amuse himself, he rolled in the bed in a complete 360 degree angle and stared back up at the ceiling. He sat up frustrated in bed and sighed heavily. He grabbed his mask and got up to put on his robe. He left his bedroom and walked straight to his kitchen. Normally he would walk carefully so as to not wake up Angelique but he practically floated when he walked so it didn't matter.

He entered the kitchen immediately looking for a bright orange box. He opened a cabinet and found one orange box but it was empty. Cabinet after cabinet, empty box after empty box, until finally he finally found a box with one chocolate left. He inspected it then casually placed it in his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue. "Am I just eating because I'm bored?" he asked himself.

"That makes the both of us."

"Jesus Christ!" he said under his breath with a jump. Christine giggled, delighting in the fact that she startled the feared Opera Ghost. He turned and found her eating a slice of bread. "Why aren't you asleep?" he asked her lightly. "My room is freezing," she said. He remembered, "Ah yes, the door. I'll fix it when you are at rehearsal tomorrow or later, actually." She took another small bite of her bread, "Why aren't you asleep?" He placed the box back in the cabinet as he said, "I, ah... have a lot of things on my mind." "Oh, anything you might want to talk about?" she asked. He looked at her surprised at her offer. "You know," she explained, "Just so you can get whatever it is that is bothering you off your back and you can sleep comfortably." He took a deep sigh, "I believe, _petite_, that my bothers aren't very pleasant to talk about and will take up the entire night." He left to the sitting room and sat before the fire in his throne-like chair.

She sat beside him on the carpeted floor, "Well, how would you generalize your bothers?" "What are you getting at Christine?" he asked bluntly and rather impatiently. She looked down to her hands and began twist her fingers, "As I was near Hypothermia in my room, I remembered when you said that I was just beginning to know you when you were-" "I remember when," He interrupted, embarrassed and ashamed of his actions.

She blushed but continued, "And I realized that, I don't know you. I mean, I do but I don't know about your life or where you're from, how old you are, and I'm still baffled by that 'hiding in Russia' reference." He rubbed his eyes through the eye-holes of his mask, "Christine, my life... isn't pleasant at all. For as long as I could remember it's been nothing but hell. If I tell you, you won't believe me and then I'll have to show you proof and I don't want to do that. I don't want to fill your mind with any more impurities than I already have." He rolled her eyes at her persistence, "Erik, I just want to know you." "When you know me, you'll hate me! You won't want to be anywhere near me," he snapped. "You obviously don't know me then," she said, both of them surprised by her volume, even Angelique woke up. "Who am I to judge you? Look at who my best friend is! A tiny prostitute of a ballerina who swears like sailor on a highway to hell but I love her with all my heart. Please Erik?"

Her last statement gave him a twinge of hope but little Meg Giry has never killed and enjoyed it, or at least so he figured. You never know these days. He thought about it for a long time. Christine sighed, "I'm sorry, you don't have to say anything. I shouldn't be like this to you." He chuckled, "You're awfully lenient when it comes to your deal." She shrugged, "I don't know what I was thinking with that. I hate telling people what to do, I feel like it isn't my place."

He thought, then finally he placed his hand over his masked face thinking, _I must be insane for doing this_, "Where would you like to start? The beginning I suppose?" She nodded almost excitedly; poor child doesn't know what she's in for. "Before I begin, I'm going to be entirely honest with you, so don't blame me for whatever feelings you have toward me later. What would you like to know?" he asked reluctantly. With the question already in mind, she asked, "Who were your parents?" "Charles and Madeleine," he answered. "Madeleine," she repeated, "Such a beautiful name." "She was a beautiful woman," he said staring into the fire, "and young too."

He went on to tell her how Madeleine was an accomplished violinist and loved music more than life itself but when she married Charles, all of it had to be pushed away. Charles was an architect and a mason, a hard and determined worker, very intelligent but also very talented. He was a very gifted tenor and a failed composer but to his family, music was a trivial thing, a pointless, waste of time and so therefore he was forced into architecture. Utterly upset that he couldn't pursue his dreams of singing on the grandest of stages, he completely forced any music from his life. He married Madeleine and told her that she was forbidden to ever play the violin or at least never in his presence, It wouldn't have been fair to steal a song to himself every once in a while and not let her, he truly loved her and her gift. "Why didn't they just play and sing together now that they were on their own?" asked Christine. "That's what I said but some people are stupid, anyway..." he continued to when he was born. They had quite the surprise when he appeared, believing for him to be a still-born or some spawn of Satan, they called a Priest and they soon realized that he was in fact still alive. The Priest blessed him with the name Erik, after himself. Erik, the Satan spawn not the Priest, always wished he would've been given a more elaborate name but anything more than two syllables is always a mouthful.

They forced him to wear a mask every minute of every day, if he ever appeared with it off he would get a beating from whoever was there. When he was a bit older they forced him to stay in the attic room alone. He learned greatly just from going through his father and mother's books and papers. He took a particular interest in music and that's when all hell broke loose. He learned it on his own fast and began to fidget with the old harpsichord that they had in the attic. He soon started to write his own music but then another thing got in the way, Father Erik Mansart began to come to the house and teach him everything about Catholicism.

He was soon forced to wear a small wooden crucifix around his neck and he hated that too. During that time he did actually believe in what he was taught but later on as he learned more it just seemed to be repeating itself, so he just began to go along with it all. He read everything he could get his hands on and realized he had a knack for art. He remembered drawing a beautiful picture of the garden outside his home and when he showed it to his mother, even she was shocked but he never received praise for it. Erik learned to do many things to at least make his parents smile but still nothing.

One day he awoke to find all of his papers missing. His drawings, his music, his attempts at architecture to be like his father, gone, all gone. He threw a fit and nearly destroyed his home. When Charles arrived home, he was ready to kill Erik for wrecking his home but Madeleine shockingly stopped him and sent Erik to the attic. "I ran away from home after my father died-" "Wait!" Christine stopped him, "What happened? How did your father pass away?" Erik shrugged and said in a bored, matter-of-factly tone, "I killed him." "You what?" she asked shocked.

He explained how his mother had been the one who found his work and wanted to show it to Charles. When he got home, he looked over his art and his building designs which were all beyond incredible for a young boy to create. Then he got to his music, Charles read Erik's music and almost began to cry, or at least that's what Erik was told years later. Charles and Madeleine had never seen music that was so beautiful. When Charles was a composer, there was certain sound that he had always tried to accomplish for years and here in this boy's music was that very sound he worked so diligently to find. Angry with jealousy, he called Erik and asked him to sing the music he had written. Erik had never really sung before that moment but he did his best. As he sang, his parents expressions fell and they stared at him in wonder, how could something so heavenly come out of this devil incarnate? Charles began to scream and shout how it wasn't fair, that God wasn't fair. God was punishing him by sending him Erik and mocking his dreams by giving them to Erik as his natural talents.

He grabbed the papers from Madeleine and commanded that she keep Erik away from him. Charles took one last glance at his son's music before throwing it in the fire along with his other works. Madeleine began to cry as she held Erik back as best as she could. All of his hard work gone forever, never to be seen or heard of again, it was the first time that Erik had ever felt hate, utter and extreme hate with 100% rage. To this day Erik wasn't sure if his mother had let him lose on purpose but she lost grip of him and he grabbed a hot poker from the fire began to beat his father incessantly with it, purposely making sure the burning part touched his face so that he would have to wear a mask too.

Erik didn't stop until he realized that his father wasn't struggling anymore. It was then that he turned to the fire to try and save whatever was left of his work but he only burned his hands, horribly. Christine looked at his hands and saw hints of burns on his skin. His mother ran to her room and quickly came back with a violin; she gave to him and told him to run away, to go somewhere far and to stay safe. He ran and ran until he grew tired and collapsed in a forest exhausted.

When he awoke, he was in a cage which was in a tent which was inside a gypsy camp. He was beaten and ridiculed to becoming a part of their freak show known as the Devil's Child and was forced to performing in said freak show. After a while he became the biggest attraction in the show and traveled with them wherever they went. He learned many skills such as ventriloquism, medicine and natural remedies, stealing, and learned how to control fire from the dying old fire-eater in the tent next to his. He finally escaped the gypsy camp by killing the owner of the freak show, Javert. "Wait a minute," said Christine. "What?" Erik asked almost annoyed. "Why did you kill him?" she asked. "He beat me in front of audiences and alone, destroyed my mask with my mother's violin in front of me, convinced me there was no God, and the rest is better left unsaid."

He continued on about how he escaped to Italy and Rome where learned stone masonry developed a love for science and engineering. Due to an accident where a young girl was killed by fallen stone work,

"Wait why did you kill her?"

"I didn't kill her! It was an accident, I told those workers to replace the stone because it was starting to wear down but 'they were tired' so they did it."

It was then that I went to Russia to hide because someone spread the rumor about his face and began to hunt him down for the supposed 'murder.' He stayed there for a small amount of time, making money as a street performer. Apparently his wonderful act had spread far across the continent and was asked to go to Persia to perform for the Royal family.

There he was introduced to intoxins such as opium, morphine, hashish, and chocolate all of which, mainly the first 3 made him a blood-thirsty animal. He admits that he didn't even know himself during that dark time and it only made everything in his already tainted mind black as night. He designed torture chambers for prisoners and captives. While his mind was clouded with these poisons, they used to like to throw him in a fight to the death with whoever was nearby, all of who were killed by his hand. He was seen almost as powerful as the shah and was given nearly everything he wanted. "What made you leave?" Christine asked in a small voice.

It was here that Erik grew somber, he said how it was not unusual for them to believe that foreigners were spies or had malicious intentions so anytime they found on in their territories, they'd throw them in his torture chambers. Erik generally didn't care until one day they brought in a Frenchman. He felt sorry for the young lad but he should've stayed in France. The shah found a better way to torture the man. He had with him a girl, his daughter who had to be no more than 6 years old. Erik started to feel uneasy about this whole thing, he asked that the shah leave the young girl alone and simply just have her father thrown in prison. The shah was a sadist and wouldn't be pleased until he saw someone die. They brought forth the small golden-haired girl and led her to her father. They shared an embrace and her father began to cry. Erik turned to the shah, "What do you intend to do, sire?" The shah gave a loud laugh, "How else would you torture a father?" Erik's eyes-widened in shock as he realize what he had meant. They heated up the chamber and separated the girl from her father. Erik didn't know what to do, he stood up, his heart pounding fast, he should jump down from his throne and stop them but he couldn't get himself to move. Just as they were about to throw the girl in the chamber, she looked up and made eye-contact with Erik. She had brilliant emerald eyes that reminded him of his long dead father. He felt her begging him for help but he still couldn't get his body to move. As they placed her before the entrance, Erik finally jumped over the ledge to a 15-foot drop. He landed hard on one leg and heard his knee crack loud. He collapsed to the sand with a growl of pain when he suddenly heard the girl's scream and the fire rage inside the chamber. He looked up and saw the girl gone and her father being held back by guards, crying and screaming. The shah laughed uncontrollably and Erik felt so much disgust it made him sick to his core. He got up and limped as fast as he could when the father escaped the guards grasp. The man was running full speed into the torture chamber's entrance; Erik met him half way and tried to stop him, "No! Wait!" The man punched Erik in face, knocking off his mask, and continued to run, screaming his daughter's name, "Angelique!" The man ran into the blazing inferno after his little girl and soon the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

The next day Erik escaped the country, ashamed of himself and his actions. Truly believing he was a monster and insane, He went to Spain where he placed himself in an asylum. There they gave him so many treatments that made his mind worse, beatings, electro-shock therapy, the worst. After a few months, he escaped there and returned to France where he is now. "You named Angelique after the girl..." said Christine softly."That day still haunts me. I could've done so much more; she could've been alive right now. When I came back here to France, I found a little kitten in an alley way during the harsh winter snow. I was going to leave her there but she looked up at me and when I saw her eyes, I saw that little girl. There was no way I was going to let her die again and I took it as God's way of giving me another chance at that."

He didn't know it, but that last statement he made answered Christine's doubts, he is a good man he just doesn't see it. "Christine say something..." he asked quietly. "What do you want me to say?" she asked, "I can't judge you. I have to admit, though, I find it a little hard to believe you. So much torment can't happen in just one lifetime." He was expecting her to say this; he rolled up his pajama and robe sleeves to show her his arms. Scars, so many scars, gashes, small cuts, burns, even strange symbols. "In that asylum in Madrid, they didn't expect their patients to live long and rather than giving them names, they gave them numbers." She didn't see any numbers on his arms. As if reading her mind, lifted his hair behind his right ear and turned away from her. 229666 was inked into his skin.

Her eyes began to water and he faced her again. "When you kissed me, it shook my very foundation. Then when you said that it's not my face that makes me a monster, but my actions, I felt... stuck. All my life I was immediately a monster because of my face. I wish I met you before Persia, Where the worst of my actions were done. You could've possibly loved me then but now after all that I've done, there's no chance."

"But there is!" she said on impulse, "I mean, you know what you did was wrong and you're not killing anyone anymore are you?"

"I killed someone yesterday. My rat-catcher, Maurice, said something that upset me and I killed him."

Damn it Erik, we were going somewhere here, she thought. "Erik, You have never hurt me and I know you never could, I trust you." What could he say? All of his burdens were out and now what left to do? Feeling the awkwardness, Christine said, "If it makes you feel better, I killed a spider once." Erik faked a gasp, "Murderer!" She giggled at his playfulness but little did she know that he was kind of serious, he loved spiders. He chuckled, "Actually the most vicious killer in the room here is that fluffy one on your lap. House cats are more dangerous than Lions because they kill to play with the cadavers."

Christine laughed, "I never knew that." They both laughed, then Erik said, "It's awfully late, you should at least get a few hours of sleep." She got up and took the cat with her, "Good night, angel." As she walked away to her room, Erik said to himself, "I tell her all my sins and she still calls me 'ange'? What an unusual child!"

He turned down all the lights in the house and returned to his room to make another attempt at sleep. As expected his nightmare was horrendous...

He saw himself as a young boy playing a simple melody on the old harpsichord that was in his attic, peacefully, alone, and comfortably with his mask off. He played his melody when suddenly his father slammed the wooden piece that was used to cover the keys over Erik's hands. He slapped Erik hard across the face and when Erik looked up at him, he noticed his father was wearing the white mask he wears now with glowing red eyes. His father hit him again with so much force he fell off the bench but instead of hitting the attic floor he continued to fall down, farther and farther until he hit the steel floor of the cage in the gypsy camp. He saw Javert approaching him and when he came into the moonlight Javert was now wearing the white mask, his eyes glowing red as he screamed in the Voice Erik heard in his head, "_Dragged here down Below, Down to the Devil's Show to be his guest forever!_" In his mind the Voice screamed "_Peace of Mind is less than never!_" Javert reached inside the cage and grabbed the crucifix from around his neck, snapping the string and crushing the cross in his hand as he screamed, "_Hate to twist your mind but God's not on your side, an old acquaintance severed!_" Helpless in the cage, Erik didn't know what to do. The voice answered, "_Burn the world, your last endeavor!_"

Javert hit him hard in the stomach with a large stick which made Erik hit the ground but to his surprise, the solid ground had tuned to sand. He looked up and he was once again in Persia, He turned around and saw the shah now the mask eyes red as he screamed "_Flesh is burning, you can smell it in the air cause men like you have such an easy soul to steal!_" Two guards grabbed Erik by his arms and then he was now in the asylum in Madrid. The doctor ahead turned around, now he was wearing his mask, screaming "_So stand in Line while they ink numbers in your head, you're now a slave until the end of time here!_" They strapped down Erik to a medical bed and placed the electrobes to his temples. The voice in his head screamed, "_Nothing stops the madness turning, haunting, yearning, Pull the trigger!_" The masked doctor looked over his head and pulled the lever down for the volts of electricity to shock him, he whispered, "_You should have known the Price of evil and it hurts to know that you belong here!_" He turned the knob to raise the volts higher and Erik felt the pain increase to unbearable limits.

Erik opened his eyes to find himself in his room again but he felt small hot hands on his shoulders. When he turned he was looking directly at Angelique wearing his mask, her skin scorched black and her hair singed, she screamed, "Can't _wake up in sweat cause it's not over yet! Still dancing with your demons._" The voice screamed "_Victim of your own creation!_" Suddenly the numerous guards he had killed in drug-induced combat and all the victims killed in his torture chambers all appeared before him, all wearing his mask as they screamed, "_Beyond the will to fight, where all that's wrong is right, where hate doesn't need a reason!_" Erik felt cold metal in his hands and when he looked it was a gun the voice told him, "_Loathing self-assassination!_"

Once again lying on the medical bed, the voice screamed, "_You've been lied to just to rape you of your site and now they have the nerve to tell you how to feel! So sedated as they medicate your brain and while you slowly go insane they tell you,-_" The masked doctor turned around with the electrobes again and screamed," _'Given with the best intentions. Help you with your complications._"

He escaped the shock and got up to start running. He was suddenly running through that same forest he had run through after he had killed his father, he was so scared as he heard the voice say, "_You should have known the price of evil and it hurts to know that you belong here. No one to call, everybody to fear! Your tragic fate is looking so clear!_" As he collapsed, he opened his eyes and was looking down the barrel of a gun.

He got up just in time before it went off and shot a tree. The sparks and heat of the gun started a fire on the ground burning the opium poppy that had been growing there. He immediately recognized the heavenly scent and couldn't help but linger. The fog wrapped around him in a warm sweet embrace that he couldn't escape. The fire spread to a small patch of hashish that welcomed him with open arms as well. The opium burned brighter, making the smoke rise more as it caressed his body and he fell into a state of bliss. He fell back and felt a sharp pain in his neck.

He sat up and pulled a fang from his neck. He saw the red and black snake slither away that he remembered was called the Ahriman, named after the Persian God of Evil. He immediately felt the effect of the venom, his blood began to pulse and his muscles tensed, his breathing and heart rate increased and he was having flashes of the Fire burning his work as he went into a murderous rage. He saw his mask on the floor and picked it up.

Still high on the drugs and venom, he began to laugh as he put the mask in place. His own eyes glowed Red and the mask's Voice gave him commands which Erik repeated like a mindless zombie as the once dead guards attacked him like they did before they met their gruesome death, "_Fight! Not to Fail, Not to fall or you'll end up like the others!_" One by one, the guards fell dead by his daggers and lasso as Erik followed his Master's voice with a wide wicked smile, "_Die! Die Again! Drenched in Sin with no respect for another!_"

More and more blood was shed as more attackers tried their best to stop the Angel of Death, the Voice commanded, "_Down! Feel the Fire! Feel the Hate! Your pain is what we desire!_" A guard managed to hit Erik in the face, knocking the mask off. Erik immediately felt the loss of power in his strength; he looked up and heard the voice scream, "_Lost! Hit the wall! Watch you crawl! Such a replaceable liar!_" He saw a blinding white light and inside the light was Christine looking like the Angel she truly was. The Voice said, "_And I know you hear their voices,_" Christine cut in, "calling from above"

"_And I know they may seem real,_"

"These signals of love,"

Christine's image began to caress Erik's face and he closed his eyes in wonder. The Voice said, "_But our life's made up of choices some without appeal._" Christine cupped Erik's face in her hands and said to him, "You took for granted your soul," her eyes glowed red as she said, "_And it's ours now to steal_" Erik backed away in fear and fell to the ground. The Vicomte's image appeared standing behind Christine, now he wearing the mask as he said, "_You should have known, the price of evil and it hurts to know that you belong here!_" The Vicomte's hands began to wander over Christine's skin and she arched against him. Erik Got up but was held back by a Punjab lasso around his neck, he turned and saw the weight of the people he ever killed keeping him down. "_No one to call, everybody to fear!_" The Vicomte raised a gun to Erik's face but lowered it to Erik's heart as he screamed, "_Your tragic fate is looking so clear!_" He pulled the trigger and Erik shot up from his bed, with a shout.

He was sweating, his heart beating out of his chest as he desperately tried to place himself back in reality. He looked at his nightstand where the mask sat staring at him. He grabbed the mask and threw it across the room, hearing it laugh as it landed to the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The journey back to Christine's dressing room was silent and awkward. He didn't make any eye contact with her and hardly spoke unless if it was to tell her to be careful or to watch her step in the dark passageways. While crossing the lake on the gondola, Christine had tried to make small talk to but he would only nod or give her a half smile. Idiot! Why did he tell her everything? She didn't have to know everything or at least not everything that happened in Persia.

They walked up the spiraling set of stairs that only had one wall and no rail to keep from falling into the water deep below. Christine hated this part of their journeys; the skirts of her gown never allowed her to see just where the edge was and made uneasy to walk. As they walked, the heel of her shoe slipped off the edge of a step and she fell with a sharp cry. Erik caught her with his strong arms faster than lightening just before her knee could hit the stone. She wrapped her arms securely around his neck and hung on for dear life as he pulled her to her feet, hearing the faint sounds of small pebbles splash in the water dozens of feet below. Both their hearts were beating frantically as he asked her in a worried voice, "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She looked down at deep abyss of darkness that she had just barely missed, "No, I'm fine. Thank you, _ange._" As she spoke, she looked up at him and stared into his eyes. In that instant, she saw so much concern and sadness yet she knew very well that those mismatched eyes could burn through to the very soul. As he quickly turned away from her, she remembered hearing the stories that the ballerinas said of those menacing eyes that would glow in the shadows of the theater. He told her to stay as close to the wall as she could when they walked and she nodded.

When they finally reached the mirror of her dressing room, he said, "I will be waiting for you here as soon as rehearsals have finished. Don't be late." She nodded silently, surprised at the sudden sternness in his voice. When he reached over her head to turn the knob that would open the mirror, she turned to face him to thank him again for saving her but their faces were a lot more closer than they had expected and she lost her voice as well the reason why she turned. Just inches away from his masked face, Erik was greatly tempted to steal a quick kiss but he remained still. She slightly raised her head as though to kiss him and his eyes felt heavy with anticipation but neither could bring themselves to do it. He looked down and she turned away, almost disappointed. On a whim, he quickly bent to her and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek but before she could register what he just did, he pushed her somewhat not really lightly out the mirror and quickly shut it behind her. She tried to turn to face the mirror but the hem of her gown was caught between the mirror and the frame. The mirror quickly opened just enough for Erik's hand to place the caught piece of material outside the mirror. She furrowed her brow as she thought about what just happened in the last few seconds. She smiled and walked to her door onto rehearsals. As she was just about to step out, her Angel's voice called to her from around the room, "Sing well." She said with a giggle, "I will." Erik immediately missed the sight of her as she left; he thought of himself to be extremely lucky to simply be in her presence but now that she knew everything… he can't lose her, not yet.

Rehearsals dragged on for hours with endless line and pitch corrections and stage directing. Christine was trying her hardest to keep concentrated on the Opera but she remembered how Raoul had said he wanted to talk to her about something important. Hoping that the hours would speed up for mid-day break, now she was praying that they wouldn't get a break at all. She stole glances to the empty auditorium whenever he could, searching for the Vicomte but she didn't see him. Maybe he was already waiting for her backstage? All too quickly, Reyer dismissed everyone for break.

As the actors and technicians parted their separate ways, Christine ducked her head low behind all the taller people to avoid being seen by any possible Vicomtes waiting offstage. She walked closely behind one large gentleman, her body hunched over and every so often peeking over the man's shoulder with squinted eyes, scanning the people around her. Meg watched the awkward scene from a distance and walked silently to stand next to Christine, imitating her posture. Meg whispered, "Who are we hiding from?" Christine jumped with a small cry; the man she had been hiding behind turned with a furrowed brow and found the two girls looking up at him with wide-eyes. Embarrassed as the man raised an inquisitive eyebrow at their odd position, they straightened their postures and began to clear their throats while he slowly walked away. "So," said Meg, not at all embarrassed, "Who _were_ we hiding from?"

Christine kept looking around the people, "I was trying to hide from Rao- I mean the Vicomte." She remembered that Meg didn't know him by his first name. "Oh, that reminds me! He gave Mama a letter to give to you today," said Meg. She handed Christine the envelope she had tucked away underneath the bodice of her ballerina attire. As Christine examined it, she said confusedly, "It's already opened…"

"He said he couldn't see you today because he left to London due to some Vicomte business bla bla bla and that he'll be back in a few days."

Christine gave her a long blank stare, "Well as long as you're the only one who read it, I don't care. What else did he say?" As Christine was taking the letter out from the envelope, Desirae, a fellow ballerina and chorus member, approached the girls, "_Bonjour..._ Oh, did she read the part where he said he was going to miss her greatly?" "Meg!" exclaimed Christine. Meg gave her a shrug and Christine continued to read the letter while the two ballerinas leaned over to look at the letter with her. "Hmm," said Christine, "He literally wrote 'due to some Vicomte business bla bla bla' …" "Told you!" said Meg, brightly. "So what was it he wanted to talk to you about?" asked Desirae. "I don't know," sighed Christine as she slipped the folded paper back in the envelope, "but whatever it is, I'm glad it'll have to wait." Desirae asked, "Weren't you courting with him?"

Erik's curiosity perked at the words "courting" and "him" as he listened in the rafters above. Christine gave a laugh, "No! Goodness, no. He's just an old friend." "Oh, so there's some history between you two?" Desirae implied. "Not really," Meg cut in, "She's still a virgin." Christine hid her face in her palm at Meg's bluntness. "Still?" asked Desirae with raised eyebrows. Meg said, "Are you really that surprised? Remember how much she used to hate having to change costumes amongst us?" Desirae nodded as she laughed at the recollection of a young shy Daae' while changing costumes. "Well none of you made it any easier!" said Christine in defense, "I would barely reach for the first clasp of my gown and you'd all start whistling at me like idiots!" The ballerinas started to laugh hysterically as they remembered watching her beautiful ivory features turn to blushing red. Christine crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance and waited silently for them to finish.

After a long minute of listening to the graceful hyenas in front of her, Christine said, "Anyway! Although I fear he may have some type of infatuation towards me, I must admit I have no feeling greater than mutual friendship towards him." The girls' jaws dropped at her confession. "Christine have you seen him? I mean, really looked at him? He's remarkably handsome!" exclaimed Desirae. "And a Vicomte," added Meg. Erik gagged to himself at how easily impressed they were. "Not to mention he's charming, really sweet and gentle," said Desirae dreamily. "And a Vicomte!" said Meg. Christine agreed, "Yes, he is sweet and very gentle but I… I have my mind set…" The girls gasped with huge wide smiles. "What?" asked Christine. "Who is he?" they both asked. Christine's heart sank, "Who's who?" "The other man!" they squealed.

Starting to feel uneasy, Christine started the rub the back of her neck, "Well… He is… um…" Erik leaned in as close as he could, staying in the shadows, to listen intently. "He's," Christine continued, "He's very tall, dark, and has traveled many times." "It almost sounds like your still talking about the Vicomte," questioned Desirae. "He's very intelligent," Christine added. "Oh no, that's not him," said the dancers, "have we seen him?" Christine chose her words carefully, "Yes, sometimes." "Who?" asked Meg. "Who is he?" Desirae said excitedly. With a smile Christine answered, "He dresses with such pristine elegance and his very aura just screams masculinity." "Who, who?" they asked, their volume rising at every intriguing detail. "He's very mysterious; there is no skill that lies beyond the mastery of his hand," said Christine. "Who?" the girls nearly shouted. _Who the hell is this, _thought Erik, genuinely having no idea whom she was speaking of. Christine added with excitement, "He's very talented! An absolute virtuoso at the piano and his voice, oh God, his voice is like that of an angel!" "Who?" the girls screamed.

"Will you two shut up?" shouted Antoinette from afar, "You morons sound like two owls having sex!" Hushed to a whisper, Christine said, "The only thing is he has a temper and he can be harsh." "He's been harsh with you?" asked Meg, concerned. "Well he's my voice coach," explained Christine, without thinking. Suddenly a loud hacking cough erupted from above their heads but they ignored it thinking it must be one of the older stagehands when really it was Erik who was so surprised by Christine's revelation that he choked on his own saliva. "I knew it!" said Meg, "You were always so happy to go to your lessons!" "And still am," Christine said, "But he's just so… complex. He's forever untrusting with anyone and I know he could be gentle, if he wanted to be but sometimes I just don't know." "All actors and technicians report back to the stage! All actors and technicians head back to the stage," called Reyer. As the girls made their final comments, Erik thought, _Gentle… I can be gentle. _

He happened to glance across the catwalks and saw one of the older stagehands, Joseph Bouquet, eying down at Christine hungrily and smiling a grimy smile. The sick bastard, Erik never liked Bouquet and how he would always be spying on the younger ballerinas, trying to touch them even. Now he has the nerve to even dare cast his disgusting grey eyes on his Christine? Bouquet loved to spread rumors about the Opera Ghost to bring the ballerinas closer to him; Maybe now was the time for Erik to silence them forever…

Joseph looked down at the actresses from his favorite catwalk, from there he had, what he considered, the best view in Paris. "Daae'," he chuckled, "You won't even know what hit you."

"Neither will you."

A gloved hand enclosed around Bouquet's throat and lifted him off the wooden platform. When Bouquet opened his eyes, he gasped at the sight of his fake rumors suddenly brought to life before him; the menacing white mask, the glowing fiery eyes, the rough yet alluring voice with his monster strength. "I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" asked Erik, with a smirk. "You can't kill me," groaned Bouquet. "Do explain," said Erik as he made his grip tighter making Joseph cringe in pain. "You only kill those who see your face" he choked, "that I know." Erik looked deep into his eyes and gave a low chuckle from his chest and lifted his mask away. Bouquet's eyes grew wide with fear, "My God…"

"You were saying?"

Hours later, Reyer dismissed everyone for the day. Christine made small talk with Meg and Desirae before walking to her dressing room. As she walked inside, all of the lanterns had been extinguished to a complete blackness, "I really wish there were windows in here." Christine felt around the room, searching for the lanterns in the darkness but she made a quick turn, her face collided into Erik's solid hard chest. "Surprise," he said, lightly. "Erik, what are you doing?" she asked with a smile. His smile, however, faded, "You said I was harsh to you and that I can't be gentle." She should've known he was listening, "I also said you were untrusting." "I know," he said, rising his hands to her shoulders. He lightly rubbed her shoulders and asked, "Can you see me?" She shook her head, "I just see darkness." "Are you afraid of the dark, Christine?" he breathed. She nodded. "There is a reason why the night is filled with darkness," he said. "The night?" her voice small. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he spoke and drew her close to him, "The night brings rest and relief from pain." His fingertips gently traced the lines of her ear which sent shivers through her body. His fore and middle finger traced from the bottom of her ear, along her jaw line to her chin and slowly slide along the smooth skin of her neck to her collarbone. Her eyes fell heavy to a close, savoring each sensation. "When you get used to the dark," he whispered in her ear, "You'll find that it can rather friendly and peaceful. And you'll love the dark too."

His hand came to the small of her back and pressed her firmly to himself, she immediately felt the proof of his desire against her even through the heavy material of her gown. She pressed her palms flat to his chest and he took that as resistance, "You needn't be afraid, Christine." "I'm not," she breathed.

"You're pushing me away…"

"I'm not…"

Her hands slid up along the silk lapels of his suit jacket and brought her arms around his neck. He slowly brought his lips to hers but it was an accidental brushing of her nose that revealed to her that his mask was off. He trusted her; he was really trying to trust her again… Was it odd that his deformity was arousing her more than his actual actions? She ran her fingernails lightly along his scalp and felt his body shake. Her hands inspired him to take the kiss further and gently invade her mouth with his tongue. Her body arched instinctively against him while he gave a small almost inaudible groan. He pulled his soft misshapen lips away and traced them along her jaw just like his fingers did until his warmth mouth found her ear. He let out a long exhaled sigh into her ear that made her gasp in delight. Thrilling in her reaction, he kissed her lips again, still gentle but more firmly. His hands slid from her back to her hips, hers trailed down his neck to his chest and back up again only her hands trailed a little too far up.

Her fingers accidentally brushed his scarred jaw line and he jerked away from her touch and took his whole body with him. She immediately missed his warmth as well as her mistake. "Erik?" she called. A single lamp began to glow revealing him with his mask back on and his eyes looking angry. She took a breath to speak but he stopped her, "You tell me that I can trust you and yet you do this? What was that exactly? Tell me! An act of pity?" "Erik, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… well I… I just… I figured…" She gave up with a sigh. He rubbed the temples of his mask and shutting his eyes, _I love her, Lord help me, I do but she's going to be the death of me._ "How does that help if you're really not rubbing your temples?" Christine immediately regretted her honest question when he shot her a glance and said with a feigned smile, "_Bonjour, Je m'appelle Erik _and I like to _pretend," _he finished sharply. He turned to open the mirror from its hidden handle and heard Christine mumble under her breath, _"__Désolé__, j'ai demandé__."_

Throughout her entire lesson, he was sarcastic and short-fused with her. He was constantly stopping her at the beginning of almost every measure to scold her about pitch and rounding vowels. At the third hour, nearly the end of her lesson, Christine couldn't take it anymore. If he was going to be like this with her than she had every right to act the same. Just when she had decided to fight back was when he stopped interrupting her every few minutes. Not that she was complaining or anything but she wanted to show that wasn't always an invertebrate. Of course, at the final high note of the song, he yells, "Stop! Stop! _That _was a horrible travesty!" At this point, Christine had had enough, "Your face is a travesty!" "You don't say?" he said with a sarcastic faked interest. He knew she didn't mean it but he wanted to see how far she would go. "That's it, I've had it!" she yelled as she threw her sheet music in the air. "And people say _I_ have a bad temper," he said with a smile. "I've had it up to here with your shenanigan! Sometimes, you frustrate me so much I just want to get your big fat head and just-…" she began to pound her tiny fist of fury into her small palm.

As hilarious as this was to watch, he couldn't but become aroused by her temper, "And tell me, how do you _really_ feel, Christine?" She growled in anger and Erik found it the most adorable sound in the world. His smile only grew wider as she continued, "You know, you are mean to me, you sneak up on me and… and… you are just mean!" He was smiling so arrogantly that she found it the most attractive and wanted to kiss its curves. "Ouch, that one hurt," he said carelessly as he put his music together. "Stubborn!" she called him. "Whiney!" he called back. "Arrogant!" She screamed as she stormed to her room and slammed the door. A pause, then a small creak, then a loud bang as the door hit the floor quickly followed by Christine's small cry. "By the way," said Erik, "try to be gentle with your door until I can replace it with new hinges." Christine stomped out of her room and into his, slamming his door harder.

He got up with a chuckle as he heard her scream, "Smartass!" No one's called him a smartass since Nadir. He stood outside his bedroom door and called laughingly, "Christine open the door." "NO!" she yelled before he even finished his sentence. He knocked a few times then she screamed, "Oh when it's _you own _door that's between us, you're gentle as a lamb, aren't you?" He was trying his hardest not to laugh aloud, "Christine, _ma petite ange, _open the door."

"No!"

"Please?"

There was a long pause, "No!" she answered. "Alright!" he said lightly, "If you're not going to open the door than don't be expecting to eat dinner." She yelled like an upset child, "I don't want to eat dinner!" "Then you won't," he shrugged.

"Good!"

"Alright then!"

"Fine!"

He walked to his kitchen to prepare dinner but it wasn't until the kitchen door was closed behind him that he let out all of his suppressed laughter. "I can hear you!" she yelled and it only made him laugh more hysterically.

Moments past, her inevitable hunger made her surrender to the intoxicating scent of his food. As she slowly walked into the dining room, she saw him sitting alone at the table with a plate and seat set for her still. "I thought you weren't coming for dinner?" he asked lightly. "If you knew that then why is the table set for two?" she inquired back. "So," he said, "my alarm clock is set for six. That doesn't prove anything." She giggled and he smiled back to her. "I'm sorry, Erik," she said, "I didn't mean what I said about your face." He said, "I know… I'm sorry for over-working you. You were doing magnificent the entire time." "It's alright," she said smiling. "Just out of curiosity," he added, "Do you sometimes really want to get my big fat head and-…" he pounded his fist into his palm just like she did and she laughed out loud, blushing. "To be honest, yes," she admitted, "and do you ever feel that way with me?" "With you," he said as he looked up, pretending to think, "It's more like-…" he then mimed picking her up and throwing her aside somewhere. "Hey!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "I'm joking," he said with a smile, "Won't you join me?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

(All rights belong to Disturbed for Christine's dream was written to the song The Night by Disturbed)

Their dinner was surprisingly pleasant; they laughed and jokingly mocked the others prior behavior. Christine found that she loved the sound of his laugh and how she wished she could see his smile complete without the mask. After dinner, she cleaned up everything and he went to his piano. For a few hours, he worked on his music and she sat on the couch, writing or drawing something in her journal. He tried not to think of it but his curiosity got the best of him. He slowly closed his manuscript and stood from the piano bench, without making a sound and walked cautiously to the hallway, away from her view. His heart stopped when Angelique meowed loudly behind him. _If you give me away, I'm turning you into a new pair of fur-lined gloves, _he scolded the cat telepathically. Luckily, Christine was so focused on her task that she didn't give much notice to Angelique.

She heard Erik's voice call from the kitchen, "Christine could you help me with something in here?" That's odd_, _she didn't even see him get up and he never asked for help, ever. She closed her journal and placed it on the couch as she got up to walk to the kitchen with a suspicious mind. As soon as she was out of view, he crept to the couch to look at the journal. He immediately recognized the special binding, "this is a sketch journal…" he whispered to himself. Suddenly, he heard Christine's gasp and he turned to find her in the doorway of the kitchen saying, "I knew it!" She ran to him and wrapped both her arms around his body, trapping his elbows to his sides. "What do you do in this book that has you fighting me?" he asked with a smile, loving every moment that her arms were holding him. "You know, you could just ask!" she grunted as he tried to wriggle free. "That's what I just did," he laughed, "so, what do you do?" As he spoke, his arm that was holding the journal slipped free and he held it high over his head. "I draw, now give it back!" she said while jumping up and down, trying to reach for the book. "You draw? May I see?" he asked with an irresistible grin. With a wide smile, she asked, "May I hear you sing a song from your new opera?" He answered flatly, "no." "Then, No," she declared.

She jumped as high as she could to get to the book but Erik teased her by occasionally lowering it to her reach only to hold it high again. "Please Erik," she asked. He laughed loudly; she was so small and he adored the way her hair fell loose. She threw her hands in frustration, "Fine! Do with it what you will! I don't care!" She turned her back to Erik and walked to the hallway. Beaming with his victory and proud of his height, he teased, "I _will_ do with it what I will." Christine picked up Angelique and cradled her in her arms. Erik only opened the back of the journal and flipped the same blank page back and forth, "hmm, you draw very well." She ignored his comment and placed the cat back to the floor.

As a way to tell her that he wasn't actually looking through it, he said, "You illustrate me quite handsomely!" "Give it back!" she shouted as she ran to him, reaching for her closed journal. "Oh, so I _am_ in here?" he asked with a smile. "Just give it!" she yelled, struggling with him. The journal slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. They both paused for a moment before she kicked it hard into the den to get it away from him. Christine started for it but Erik blocked her with his arm. She tripped him with her foot making him fall to the floor on his stomach as she laughed at his defeat. She hurried to the small black journal until she tripped over the edge of the carpet; it was his turn to laugh at her folly. She began to crawl like a soldier in a war when Erik slipped his hand between her belly and the floor before flipping her to her back and out of the way. He crawled a bit but she grasped onto his broad shoulders, flipping him to his back and fitting her legs on either side of him to keep him from getting any closer to the book. She was so desperately trying to keep him from seeing the contents of her journal that she didn't even consider the impropriety of her provocative position. He however, noticed and the shock halted his movements. He felt his body immediately react and dreading not being able to control it. She leaned her body over his to get her journal above his head, some of her fair falling over her shoulder and tickling his chin.

"Ah ha!" she said. She waved the journal in his face, proclaiming, "I win!" As her journal registered in his mind, he remembered his motive, "Oh no, not that easily." He sat up from beneath her, one of his arms wrapping around her and the other reaching for her journal as he rolled over taking her beneath him. He knocked it out of her hand and it landed not too far from Angelique. The feline walked to the journal and lay down over it, her fur completely hiding the book. Christine and Erik got up from the floor, he was trying to hide his shaking hands and she called to Angelique, "Angelique… let me have the journal please." The cat stared at her blankly, swishing her tail back and forth. Erik laughed, "She's on my side. Angelique, the journal please?" As Erik reached to lift the feline off and grab the book, Angelique turned quickly and growled at him. "Traitor," he called her. Angelique decided to play a game with them, _let's see which one is the first to bring me food…_

For almost 15 minutes they were both calling to her non-stop. Christine and Erik began to try and lure her with random objects from the house; bits of string, small bells, feathers, anything they could use but no success. It was Erik who came back chuckling with a small mirror; he positioned the mirror to reflect the light from the lamps to the floor around Angelique. The feline immediately took notice to the little glowing orb dancing on the floor and around her. She tried to cover it with her paws but it escaped yet again as her eyes followed its swift movements. She pounced on the light, leaving the journal forgotten and unguarded. Christine quickly went for the journal before Erik could drop the mirror and get it. She waved the journal in the air and danced her victory in a circle. "Alright, alright," Erik laughed, "you win. I know when I'm defeated."

She smiled proudly, "And tell me, oh Opera Ghost, how it feels to be defeated by a 5'2", ex-ballerina and current soprano?" He shook his head and playfully said, "I must admit I am quite ashamed of myself. I could never show my masked face again ever in Paris and now," he grabbed his violin and placed his fedora on his head, "I must take my music as well as my leave." He pretended to head for the door as she laughed her delight and grabbed his arm. "No, No, please stay," she laughed. He smiled to himself, savoring the sound of her voice telling him to not to go. Eager to hear it again, he teased, "No, I must." She laughed and tugged his arm firmer, "Please don't leave, Erik." His heart glowed at her words but he feigned reluctance as he rolled his eyes and said with a smile, "I _guess _I'll stay." They laughed while he placed his violin on the couch and raised his other hand to place his hat back on the rack but she stopped him when she said, "wait."

"What," he asked as he was lifting his hat off. "No," she stopped his arm, "leave it." Erik watched as she closed the distance between them, curious to her intentions. She stood tip-toed as she fixed his clean white collar that had been standing up behind his neck and ever so slightly tilted his hat back. She rested her arms around his neck and he brushed a wave of her hair behind her ear as he asked, "Any particular reason as to why I can't take off my hat?" She shook her head as her eyes wandered over his every detail; his hypnotizing mismatched eyes, the way his solid chest would rise and sink with every breath, the wave of hair that fell over his mask and his enticing smooth bottom lip. His hand put a slight pressure on the back of her skull to bring her forward as if for a kiss but before their lips could touch he backed away, smiling and asked, "You never told me what was in that journal…" She playfully slapped the front of his hat downward so that it covered his teasing and alluring eyes. He laughed arrogantly when she walked away with her arms crossed over her chest, looking disappointed. "I told you," she said as she tucked the journal beneath her arms, "I draw." "And what is that you draw?" he asked as he tossed the hat behind him, conveniently landing on the hat rack. "Drawings," she answered with a smile. He asked, "May I just see one? I won't tease you about it or anything else you might suspect." "Not unless you sing one song from your opera," said Christine. She saw that he was already going to refuse so she repeated his words, "I won't tease you about it or anything else you might suspect." He smiled at her, "So a work for a work?" She nodded excitedly when she could see his mind working through his eyes.

After a moment of thought, he complied, "Alright, I suppose." Though happy she was going to hear some of his work, she immediately regretted her offer as she remembered the things she had drawn on those pages. She handed him the journal with a heavy feeling in her stomach. She felt her palms moisten with nervousness when he placed his finger between two pages and lifted it open. Her heart sank when she saw it was a sketch of him that she had made a few weeks back. Erik was surprised at the realistic details she had incorporated into this picture. On the paper, he was sitting at the piano writing his music while one hand held a chord on the keys. He noticed that she had put the extra detail of his disfigurement peeking out from beneath his mask by his ear and his jaw as well as a scar that he knew showed on the back of his neck. She had put a lot of time on his eyes and, dare he consider it, he thought he looked rather good! "I know it's very amateur but I try just as a hobby," Christine tried to explain while she looked down and twirled her fingers around each other. "You're right," he said, "I do have a fat head." She laughed, "You don't, I just don't know how to proportion things right." "You did everything correctly," he assured her, "I must admit I am very impressed at this, considering that you made this free-handedly." "You draw as well?" she asked. "I've told you before that I used to draw as a child. When I wanted to be an architect, I had to perfect it to design and illustrate the more proper and conventional way," he said, "I love it." He handed to journal back to her and complimented, "You are very talented, _petite." _

"Not as talented you, _ange_," she smiled, "and now…" He turned her by her shoulders and slightly pushed her toward her room, "And now, you go to bed." "_Ange!_" she whined. "I'm teasing," he laughed and walked to the piano. He nervously handed her the completed first act of Don Juan Triumphant, hoping that chance would choose a decent song. It did; her finger landed in the middle of Don Juan's first ballad. He placed the music out before him on the piano as she sat down on the couch to listen. "I apologize if this song is a bit of a bore. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if I find you asleep when I'm finished." "Just play," she laughed, "everything you create is incredible beyond measure." They shared a smile before he turned to the piano. He began the intro, already she loved the way the music seemed to create such dark colors in her mind. He inhaled at his entrance but abruptly stopped playing and asked her with a serious expression, "Are you hungry?" "Erik!" she laughed. "Alright, alright," he chuckled, "no more games." He played the intro once more, slower this time as he let the music sink into his mind as well as hers. Christine couldn't believe the amazingly beautiful and clear sound that came from his voice when he began to sing. His voice, that golden voice, dear God, _this_ was the voice of an angel! The music alone was the most exquisite she had ever heard! With every movement of Erik's voice, whether it be to a low baritone or a high tenor, Christine had chills that glided all over her skin. His music and his voice filled her with such a longing, such an unfulfillable longing that she didn't even now could exist. At the end of the second verse, his voice glided in such a unique way that created a sound so seductive, she shuddered in ecstasy to hear. As she closed her eyes, she could feel the music's dark melody and the power or Erik's voice closing in around her. His music enshrouded her in the dark and his voice, though powerful and demanding, was caressing her auditory senses as it filled the entire house. He belted out a long note and moved his voice up and down with the music; bring the song to a close. His echo could be heard outside the house into the cellars.

"I hope I don't get a noise complaint from the neighbors upstairs," he joked. "Erik," she sighed, "Your voice…" "I told you it would be a bore," he said. "No!" she exclaimed, "Erik, your voice is… It's almost unreal! That was the most beautiful singing I've ever heard since… Ever! Surely, you must know what an incredible wonder your voice is?" His smile fell, "Unfortunately, I do… and don't call me Shir-" "Unfortunately?" Christine interrupted. "My face," he sighed, "along with my voice was few of the many things that were exploited when I was traveling with the gypsies. In Persia I've used my voice to do horrible things, including lie to you." She remembered now; it was that voice that would speak to her in her dressing room all those months ago, "I'm sorry, Erik." He got up from the piano bench, "Don't be, _petite_. I'm sorry." The room grew quiet and awkward for a long while. Christine glanced at the clock and noticed it was very late but she didn't want to go to bed yet. She picked up his violin in a violinist's position and glided the bow across the strings making an ugly scratching noise that she and Erik cringed to hear. She quickly put the violin back down on the couch and away from her, staring in the other direction when Erik gave her a glance.

"What are you doing?" he asked. She shrugged at him. "Here," he said as he took a seat next to her on the couch. He showed her how to hold the violin correctly and where to place her fingers on its neck. "Now glide the bow back and forth across the strings," he instructed. She did so clumsily and created a sound of some kind, if you want to call it a sound. He stopped her, "No, stop. We are not _slicing_ into my violin. Just glide _slowly_ back and for- Actually, stand up."

She stood and walked a few steps forward as he helped her position the violin in place again. He placed his hands over hers while standing close behind her. She felt heat invade her body when his chest was pressed against her back, when she could feel every uncertain breath enter and leave his lungs. "Straighten your back," he told her gently, "calm your mind and relax your body." Both of them knew that was certainly easier said than done; nonetheless, they both tried to keep their focus on their current task. His hand grasped hers that was holding the bow; before this moment she had never actually realized just how large his hands were to hers, his hand covered her entire fist. He leaned in to breathe in her ear, "Now gently, slide the bow…" He moved his arm with hers, creating a soft and low B flat. Erik felt her lean back against his chest and he closed his eyes to cherish her warmth and the music they were creating together. He placed his fingers on the neck of the violin and instructed that she hold her fingers over his as he played. He played Don Juan's ballad in a slower and deeper pitch than he sang in earlier; once again she was lost in that deliciously dark and warm place that his music and now his arms created. They played together the first verse. The second however, he sang in a baritone range with the music. Oh God, to hear his voice and then to actually feel it's power against her back through his chest was a sin she more than willingly indulged in! She felt her knees grow weak beneath her and the unfulfillable longing inside of her. When the verse was coming to a close, he leaned close to her ear and glided his voice in that unique seductive tone. He felt her shiver before she turned to bring her ear closer to his mouth, to hear every glorious sound that came from him. The instant that he smelled the sweet scent of her hair, the violin was quickly forgotten as he brought the instrument down to hold his wrists against her waist to press her closer until they were flush against each other. Even through all the layers of her skirts and petticoats, she could feel his desire pressing against her while he sang in that deep hypnotic voice. As he sang the last long note of the song, she looked at him and he looked at her, his voice began to vibrato when she leaned close to him, he was leaning closer until the note faded away on her lips.

Just as their lips touched, Angelique meowed louder than usual. They both looked at the cat who was sitting on the mantle above the fireplace, staring at them with wide eyes and almost appeared to have a Cheshire smile. Both Christine and Erik took a step away from each other, feeling awkward and embarrassed that their scene had an unwelcomed audience. Erik looked at the clock behind the cat and saw that it was almost midnight, "You really should be going to bed." She nodded quietly trying to hide her shaking hands and weak knees. As she walked to her bedroom door he stopped her, "Christine." When she turned to face him, his eyes immediately went to the floor; He could act as arrogant and as confident as much as he wanted but in the end, especially after such small yet intimate moments, he still felt completely undeserving of her attention so much as her kiss. "Yes?" she asked in a small voice. He didn't know why he called her; he guessed he just didn't want her to leave just yet. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, "I… D-do you need anything, something to help you sleep?" "No," she smiled at him, "but thank you, Erik. Good night, _ange_." He gave a solitary nod and walked with his hands folded behind his back to the den. Though puzzled by his behavior, she didn't question him any further about it.

She indulged in a hot bath then changed into her nightclothes. Angelique sat beside her on the bed, watching her loosely braid her hair and nudged the brush toward her with her nose. Christine giggled, knowing that the feline wanted and took the brush. As Christine brushed through Angelique's long soft black fur, her mind drifted to Erik's earlier words:

"_There is a reason why the night is filled with darkness… The night brings rest and relief from pain. When you get used to the dark, you'll find that it can be rather friendly and peaceful… You'll love the dark…_

_You needn't be afraid, Christine."_

"The night…" she whispered quietly to herself. Angelique's meow brought Christine back to the present and made her realize she had left the brush resting slightly on the cats face. "I'm sorry," she apologized to the cat. She brushed Angelique's belly and her long fluffy tail then finished with brushing out the fur on her small purring chest. She placed the brush on her vanity and climbed into bed. She loved the bed covers Erik had picked for her; cream ivory colored silk with deep purple velvet detail. Though Erik's words had clouded her head, she wasn't expecting the lucid dream they had created.

She dreamt that she was in her dressing room, changing out of her elaborate costume and preparing to go home. She heard Erik's music, surrounding her from all corners of the room. This music was dark, harsh, almost frightening but it had an irresistibleness to it; it had slithered along her skin like a cold snake and yet created her blood to boil. The music invaded the sanctuary of her mind and created far from pure urges that resounded all through her being. She felt fear for what had come over her, a mad drummer took hold of her heart making it beat and pulse to the music's savage rhythm. She ran away to the door but she retracted her hand as she looked at the door's handle. The gold elaborate handle had begun to turn black and spreading onto the rest of the door. She turned away to find that more blackness had started to emanate from the mirror, spilling along the walls, ceiling and floor as if leaking ink. It covered more and more of the room, crawling along the chairs and across her vanity, creeping up the candles. She figured the blackness would extinguish the flame but it didn't, instead it only turned the flame black as well, almost like how the night devours the day during an eclipse. During this phenomena, the music called away to come closer to the mirror and she obeyed but why? Why was she abandoning all of her defenses as she always did when the dark beckoned? No, why did she abandon sense when _Erik_ beckoned? She knew if she wasn't afraid of all this, that if she could just face the dark and embrace it, she could be his redemption. In the music she heard the serenade of his haunting voice calling her away to feast upon the night. She approached the mirror and saw her reflected image in the glass. Suddenly the girl in the mirror began to change; her brown eyes grew into a beautiful darkness, she let the dark chestnut waves of her hair fall over her exposed shoulder. Christine felt envy twist in her stomach, this girl in the mirror wasn't her but if she did become her, she would finally wake a sleeping bud from hibernation, she could be strong and unafraid; never question "why." She heard Erik's voice whispering in her ear, "_Let your armor fall and I can give you the strength to face them."_ Them? Who's them? She looked up and found herself in a room full of mirrors. Before her were seven mirrors, each one with a different reflection of Erik, or so she assumed. Each reflection seemed to be an entire different person from the rest; one was even a small crying child, wearing a small white mask! All the mirrors abruptly shattered at once, revealing Erik standing behind the middle mirror. He approached her, his footsteps leaving marks on the ground as though he stepped in ink, only these grew across the floor just like they did from the mirror. As he walked closer she felt anticipation in her core, those same impure thoughts return to her clouded mind and the savage rhythm return to her heart. She wanted to give in but she was scared; what was on the other end for her? What did it mean to give in? What would she lose or gain? In the blink of an eye, she was in her dressing room again, now the brave Christine and Erik were before her. Erik reached a hand out to her, his fingertips barely brushed her collarbone and it flooded her with so much sensation, she felt the darkness taking over. She asked so many questions of why and what if, what better way of knowing than just to finally give in. The mirror opened to the dark corridors of Erik's world of unending night, a world beyond controlling. Erik wanted to become a better man, to be freed by the chains of his past and Christine was the only one who could release him; Christine wanted to become strong, unafraid, never doubt, only Erik could be the one to release the darkness in her. Erik would never deny her, was she going to deny the savior in front of her eyes? She stared into the night beyond the mirror, ready to finally embrace it. Her eyes shifted to Erik and his smooth bottom lip, she traced but one finger across it and he shuddered and moaned. The uncontained power she had over him! It was addicting in every sense and she wanted a stronger response. She stripped his mask away just as she had done before, every scar and deformity just as she had remembered and kissed him on his malformed lips, lightening surged through her veins and she heard a roar of thunder from deep within Erik's chest. She felt his hands grab her waist and pull her to his body, she caressed his face and she felt his knees nearly buckle beneath him. So much power, she couldn't believe it! She didn't want to be a slave anymore, she gave into the night. Before she knew it, they were both in the night beyond the mirror and though she couldn't see, she felt skin besides her own. Erik was the night and she was the day, sweet shadow took hold of the light and night devoured the day. She felt the fire from Erik's touch and desire burn to unbearable heights but she didn't want it to stop. The flame consumed her in a rush of euphoria and a sudden feel of release. She heard voices, "_In a world beyond controlling, are you going to deny the savior in front of your eyes? Stare into the Night. Power beyond containing, are you going to remain a slave for the rest of your life? Give into the Night!"_

She felt something brushing her cheek, her eyes fluttered opened and saw a long black something too close to her sight. She jumped off the bed screaming and kicking, she hurriedly yet cautiously opened her door and immediately ran to Erik's room without consideration of whether or not he'd be bothered or had his mask on. When she opened the door, she saw Erik still in his suit and mask reading a book in his chair beside his bed, his eyes wide with concern. She jumped onto his lap still in hysterics and wrapped her arms around his neck, how he loved it! "Christine, what is it?" he asked worriedly. "It was on my face! I felt it on my face!" she screamed. "You felt what?" "A spider!" she sobbed. He let out a laugh, "Is that all? My Lord, child, I thought it was something more serious!"

She lifted tear filled eyes to mismatched ones, "Erik, you don't understa-… You wear spectacles?" He was wearing simple silver-rimmed eye-spectacles over the mask. "No, I just wear them because I think they make me look charming." She ignored his sarcastic tone and continued to explain, "I am terribly afraid of spiders! Please, please, Erik, go in my room and get it out please!" He sighed, "Alright, I'll find it." He tossed the book onto his bed and stood up to complete his mission. As he stood however, Christine was still clinging onto his neck even as she dangled while he stood. Erik smiled and cleared his throat, loudly. She opened her eyes and saw that she was hanging off of him, "Oh, I'm sorry. Could you…?" He put her arms around her and placed her on the floor. "Please find it, Erik! I know it's there still," she cried. "Don't worry, _petite," _he said as he brushed her cheek. His touch caused small flames to lick along where he touched and she shuddered as she remembered her dream.

As he stepped into her room, she called to him, "Erik!" He turned to look over his shoulder to her, "Yes?" God, he looked attractive! She stammered her words a bit, "Be careful." He rolled his eyes and shook his head with a chuckle. She followed him with tentative steps and stood in the doorway of her room, "Did you find it?" _I just walked in here, _"So far nothing." He flipped her blanket around and moved her pillows but still no arachnid, it must be hiding under the bed. He got to his knees and peeked under the bed but his spectacles began to bother, "Christine, could you hold these for me, please?" She grabbed the spectacles from his hand, her brow furrowed in confusion as she examined the glasses, "Erik, these have no lenses…"

"I wasn't joking when I said I thought they made me look charming."

She smiled to herself and placed the glasses in the pocket of her night robe- Her night robe! She wasn't wearing it, she suddenly felt embarrassed that she had let Erik see her like this, well not really. Wait, Yes! She is embarrassed! Ugh, what was she thinking? She's a lady, damn it! "Are you sure it was a spider and not just your hair perhaps?" he asked her while he still looked under the bed. "Yes, I'm sure!" she nearly yelled. Erik lifted his head to look at her with surprised eyes, "Christine calm yourself."

"Don't tell me how to act in front of the spider!"

"I'm sure his opinion about you wasn't very good to begin with."

"Just find it!" 

In his most gentle tone, he asked her, "Would you like to walk by the lake until I find it?" Just by the look her gave her, she knew she was over-reacting. She nodded silently and asked, "Would please toss my boots in this direction?" He carelessly threw her boots to the floor around her and ducked his head to continue searching for the spider. She slipped her left foot in her boot, embarrassed about her behavior. As she slipped on her right boot, she felt something squirming by her toes and tiny pricks along her skin. She jumped with a scream and kicked the boot off her foot, barely missing Erik's head by a few inches. She shivered violently and continued to scream, "I felt it! Oh God, I nearly died!" Erik rolled his eyes and searched around the floor where the boot landed, still no sign. "There's one thing I can think of doing…"

"What is it?"

"Were going to have to bring in a professional about these sorts of things…"

A moment later he returned back to the room with Angelique in his arms, he spoke into the cat's ear, "Angelique, there is a spider in here that is on a murderous rampage, killing only beautiful young sopranos," Christine shot Erik a glance, "and we need you to find it and get rid of it." He placed the cat on the carpeted floor and lightly pushed her forward to her quest. Angelique glanced around the room and gave a loud meow; _you woke me up for this?_ She turned around and walked between Erik's feet back to the den. They both watched the stubborn feline walk away down the hall. Then Erik exclaimed in a sarcastic tone, "Thank you, Angelique." "Wait," whispered Christine. "What?" Erik asked impatient now. "Maybe," She whispered more quietly, "Maybe it's still in the boot." Erik inquired, "Why are you whispering?" She shushed him, "We don't want the spider to know our plans!"

"Are you serious?"

She shushed him again. "I'll check, Baroness Von Shush," he said becoming annoyed. He quietly approached the boot and reached over to pick it up by its heel. He quickly up-ended the boot but nothing fell out. The boot certainly felt heavier than it should be; he gave the boot a shake, the spider was there alright! They both expected a small spider to fall out but instead found a spider that was easily the size of Erik's fist and Erik practically had huge paws for hands. Christine was so terrified that she was silent, she didn't even breathe. Erik was surprised that such a creature should be found in his home, "Well," he said with a chuckle, "You certainly are a big fellow aren't you?" He picked it up by one of its legs and Christine gasped at the horror of Erik's bravery. He placed the spider on his open palm and gently petted its back, "I believe I'll keep you and name you Arachne." Christine's eyes widened, "Do you honestly intend on keeping it? As a pet?" she almost screamed. He smiled, "Well Of cour-" he suddenly let out a deep growl and flung the spider across the room, "You fucker!"

"What did I do?"

"Not You, Arachne! He bit me!"

Christine noted with fear that his hands were empty, "Erik, where's the spider?" Erik looked around the area where he threw it but didn't see it anywhere. Christine let out a sharp cry, Erik turned to her and then to the direction she was staring. The spider had climbed up the wall and was making his way to the ceiling. "Erik get it please!" He started to get frustrated with her screaming, "Christine, go to my room, stay in there and for God's sake keep quiet!" He scolded her in a harsher tone than he had intended. She abruptly turned and fled to his room. Erik took a deep breath and said quietly to Arachne, "I offer you a home and you bite me? Now you're going to get it, you little bastard."

Moments later her tossed the spider outside the house and into the lake, muttering, "Try and bite me, will you?" He returned to his room to find Christine asleep on his bed. He stared at her sleeping beauty and began to regret not having more patience with her, some people can't help but fear. He wondered how he is going to sleep; he certainly can't sleep with her in the same bed under the same covers. He sighed, "My couch is more comfortable, anyway."


	12. Chapter 12

So I know this chapter is really short but I don't wanna keep you guys waiting :( It's really hard being able to update since I lost my internet but I'm definately _NOT_ abandoning this story.

Chapter 12

Christine awoke alone in Erik's bed. For a long while she simply lay in the covers, savoring the musky masculine scent of him that had embedded in the sheets. She hugged one of his large pillows tightly to herself and got up from the bed with great reluctance; she still had a rehearsal to attend. She made the bed and walked to her room to change into her gown for the day. While pinning her hair, she realized she hadn't heard or seen Erik since she had gotten up. Was he even in the house? Oh God, did the spider eat him? Suddenly fraught with worry, she walked out of her room and scanned the home. Where was he? She was making her way to the kitchen when she heard a deep exhale behind her. She turned and found Erik asleep on the couch facing the back rest, wearing his mask and using his suit jacket as a blanket. At that moment she felt utter pity for him; the mask looked terribly uncomfortable on his face as he slept and his fingers on his right hand twitched a bit. She walked to the side of the couch his head was resting on. She softly called his name, "Erik?" His fingers twitched again. "Erik?" He grumbled a bit and shifted slightly. She reached to touch his shoulder, hesitated then poked his solid shoulder twice.

His eyes fluttered open as he turned his head to look up at her. She smiled at him as their eyes met, he smiled back, "Christi-" he misjudged the distance leaning to far back and rolled off the couch with a loud thud. She giggled to herself as he got up on his knees, running his fingers through his hair and licking his lips as he asked, "what time is it?" Before she could answer, he turned quickly to the clock and said with alarm, "Damn, you're going to be late! If we don't leave now you'll have a mark against you and y-". As he spoke he got to his feet too fast and felt his head reel with dizziness. "Erik, are you alright?" Christine asked concerned. The room spun around him and he was having terrible trouble keeping his balance. Something was wrong; the dizziness shouldn't last this long from just a blood rush. He screwed his eyes shut and sat down on the couch.

"Erik, Your hand!"

He opened his eyes and saw that the spider's bite had swollen his hand and reddened his palm. "Christ," he mumbled under his breath, "I'll take care of it when I come back from taking you to rehearsal." Her eyes widened, "Erik, you can't be serious?" He took a deep breath, "Christine, I can't have you late and I certainly won't let you lose your part because of me. Get your cloak." He stood up slowly and everything seemed to spin faster, his knees failed and he slumped back to the couch. "Don't be ridiculous! Erik you can't even stand so much as walk all through the cellars back to the theater." "Don't tell me what I can and can't do!" he snapped. Though his volume made her jump, she didn't falter in fear and made sure he saw that. He did; he sighed, "Do you know your way back?"

"Yes there's the... I remember the stairs... And then the lake... No the lake first then... No."

"Angelique!" he called. Angelique ran in a jog toward her master's voice, her chubby belly waddling from side to side; _Now what? A praying mantis that only kills well-dressed disfigured musicians? _The feline stopped before Erik and say down to wait for her master's instructions. "I need you to lead Christine back to her room, quickly. I also need you to watch over her under the same instructions i gave you the last time, if you recall," commanded Erik. Christine couldn't believe how Erik was talking to the cat as if he were a General and Angelique a fluffy officer or body guard. What was even more amazing was how the cat listened intently as though she understood! Angelique walked to the door and waited for Christine. "Erik," said Christine, "Are you sure you'll be alright?" His eyes were closed as he took a deep breath, "I'll be fine. I'm really in loathing letting you go without me but... I must follow tour order until tomorrow." Tomorrow? The deal! She had forgotten about her own compromise; the conflicts that could have been solved had she just taken advantage of that damned deal! "I know I forgot as well," he added. Did she speak out loud? "Just follow Angelique, she'll be your Angel for right now," he assured her as he pointed toward the lantern by the door for her to take it. He loved knowing that she genuinely cared for him; he could read it in her expression. She continued to head out the door but hesitated; how much she wanted to stay with him. She didn't know the effects of spider bites and he could very well be dead by the time she returned. That last dreadful thought had sparked enough courage for her to run up to Erik and kiss the cold cheek of his mask. Though he couldn't feel anything but the slight pressure of the mask against his scars, he savored it anyway and smiled as she walked away to the door and said, "take care, ange." He nodded; her kisses always left him light-headed... That and he had to get rid of this bite right away before he fell unconscious to the floor or worse. She held the door open for Angelique and they both disappeared to the dark. As soon as the door clicked closed, Erik hurried to his room while grabbing his dagger from the hallway, trying his hardest to stay balanced.

Christine followed the intelligent feline across the lake to an alternate route since neither of them could row the boat. The sound of Christine's heels echoed throughout the darkness as well as the slight pitter-patter of Angelique's paws along the wet stone. The lantern's light didn't spread very far, just enough for Christine to see directly infront of her. Suddenly she noticed that Angelique had stopped and looked up at her. "Please don't tell me we're lost," said Christine. Angelique meowed and Christine put her lantern forward. There was a long narrow stretch of stone yet wide enough to walk on surrounded by murky water and Christine saw no other way of getting across. The cat meowed at her again and Christine asked, "Are you serious?"_ Are you questioning me? _Angelique took a few steps forward along the stones,_ See? It's not that hard, if my master can do it, so can you. We have to move quickly! _Angelique meowed and Christine balanced as best as she could on the stones. Luckily, they weren't as slippery as she thought. Christine took very careful steps forward as Angelique meowed again. "Don't rush me," said Christine. _Well, don't be slow! _Christine followed the cat, walking along the stone as though walking on a tight rope and followed her fluffy escort through the rest of the cellars.

Erik was tying a small thin rope tightly on his forearm to stop anymore venom to getting into his system. Once in place, he grabbed the dagger and prepared himself for the pain. The bite had left a small mound below his ring finger on his right hand and was becoming painful; he couldn't even make a fist without wincing. He took a deep breath and sliced the knife's edge along the side of the bite. Had he taken note of the bite sooner, he couldn'tve easily sucked the venom out but it had festered long enough to leave him no other choice but this. As he applied a heavy pressure on the bite, he gave a small growl of pain and cursed, "Damn you, Arachne! Not only for biting me but for scaring Christine, you little son of a..." He stopped himself; he hadn't cursed this much since his younger years in Persia and he didn't want anything to do with that former monster of himself. He cleaned up his wound as well as the sink and wrapped a bandage around his hand. As he untied the rope from his arm, he figured he mind as well fix Christine's bedroom door while he was still home.

Rehearsals had been grueling since Christine got there, especially for her since she was late but also because her matinee performance was in two days. There was sonera relief knowing that Raoul wasn't there to cause any worry. She felt sorry that she was constantly pushing away her childhood friend but there was no telling what sort of harm Erik's jealousy would do to him. Carlotta had no trouble making Christine feel insignificant; she was literally upstaging her at nearly every chance and giving her scrutinizing glances. It was the diva's turn to sing the aria. As she sang the last high note, Christine tried her hardest to hold in a sneeze but couldn't do it. If there was thing Carlotta wouldn't tolerate, it was when company and audience members alike would cough, whisper, sneeze, make any noises during her "shining moments." The angry Prima Donna turned to Christine with wide-eyes, "What have I done to deserve this from you?"

"Do you honestly want me to answer that?"

Christine didn't realize how sarcastic and challenging her honest question had sounded until the words had already hit the air. "You just listen and learn from a real soprano, little toad!" Carlotta spat. Christine looked to the floor, wrapping the material of her dress nervously around her fingers as Carlotta began the area over again. The diva belted the first high note when all the ballerinas erupted into over-exaggerated coughs and sneezes from the wings. It took all of Christine's effort not to smile when the coaching and sneezing stopped as soon as Carlotta glanced in their direction. Surprisingly, Carlotta didn't ask Reyer to stop the orchestra and start over. Christine could hear the girls snickering and it made her miss being amongst them. Before Carlotta sang the final high note, she cast an evil look at Christine and the ballerinas. As she sang the note, it seemed as though no one would interrupt this time until a loud meow echoed down from the rafters above. Christine and Carlotta both looked up to find the notorious black cat staring down at them with big green eyes and her head tilted innocently. It was then that a small giggle had escaped Christine's lips but her smile immediately disappeared when Carlotta looked at her. The diva threw he hands in the air in frustration and yelled, "Ballet rats and loud cats!" she turned to the managers, " and just what do you intend to do about that?" Andre and Firmin stammered a bit trying to make an excuse until Meg's loud voice broke the silence, "you're fat!" The entire company burst into laughter except Piangi for obvious reasons, he being Carlotta's husband and the Opera's only tenor. Carlotta towards her direction and warned, "You watch your mouth little Giry or I'll-" "Or you'll what?" asked Madame Giry, a lioness protecting her cub. Carlotta fell silent; Christine noticed how everyone seemed to carry fear for Madame Giry. Christine did also though she never knew why. Meg crossed her arms and challenged, "Yes, or you'll do what, Madame?" With the expert flick of the wrist, Madame Giry's cane hit Meg's skull as Madame commanded, "Shut up, Meg."

Rehearsal went on with a heavy tension between Carlotta and Christine. When Reyer called for break, Carlotta walked past Christine nearly knocking her to the ground with her shoulder. Christine walked to her dressing room to see if she had possibly given her a bruise from hitting her so hard so many times. Christine locked the door behind her and unclasp her gown a bit to reveal her shoulder; a bit of redness but no sign of bruising. Angelique's meow had made her jump and turn sharply in surprise, "Please don't sneak on me like your master does." she wondered if Erik was possibly behind the mirror, "Erik?" No response, he must still be at his home beneath the world. Christine had a strong urge to check on him to make sure he was alright but she knew that he would give her an endless lecture if she left rehearsal.

At that moment, Erik was replacing the bottom hinge of Christine's door. His hand still gave him a slight pain but nothing too horrible, he was glad he wasn't as disoriented as he had been that morning. His original plan was to finish getting dressed to watch over Christine and to forget fixing her door but then he remembered his monstrous actions that had broken the door in the first place. Erik couldn't believe how much harder it was to keep control around her. There wasn't a single moment where he didn't remember the feel of her warm soft mouth against his, the way her fingers had threaded through his hair and her nails dragging across his scalp. He shuddered recalling every sensation her touch brought. He immediately went back to his task, trying to keep his mind away from such thoughts.

Christine leaned on the wooden beam off-stage, waiting for rehearsal to begin again and thinking about her dream. It haunted her; why was she constantly afraid? Afraid of the dark, afraid of spiders, afraid of trying alcohol, afraid of what others thought of her, afraid of Carlotta, the list was endless! But one of the things that she was most afraid of as that perhaps she wasn't enough for Erik. She was afraid that she was maybe too child-like for his matured nature or that she couldn't give him what he needed so much as wanted. With that thought came the memory of the immense electricity his touch and voice brought to her senses that immediately made her want to fight yet surrender at the same time.

_"Let your armor fall and I can give you the strength to face them."  
><em>  
>as those words replayed in her head, Christine felt a presence behind her at that moment and her body tensed, instantly expecting, actually hoping, that it was Erik. "Your back looks tense," said a woman's voice though deep as a man's and carried a heavy German accent. "Here, let Olga help you." Christine turned sharply to to see Meg laughing hysterically. Christine sighed with relief and a smile, "I should've known it was you." Meg continued to laugh as she said, "You had a such a serious look on your face, I just had to come and make you laugh. What's wrong?" "It's nothing," Christine smiled.<p>

Meg didn't believe her for one second, "Chris, we're like sisters. I can tell when something is troubling you." Christine didn't want to ask, already having an idea of what the answer might be but she had to, "I never take risks, do I?" "You take about as many risks as a crippled turtle," answered Meg lightening fast, "Why do you ask?" How can Christine explain this? "Wait," said Meg, "I think I know..."

Christine's stomach fell to the floor, "What?" Meg Crossed her arms, "Have you and your voice coach had any... Transgressions?" Christine thought of the term, "Well, yes I suppose." Surprised, Meg demanded, "Really? How?" Christine hesitated; did she really want to tell Meg, "Well..." ah, to hell with it, "We've kissed... More than once... Twice..." Christine immediately blushed when she saw Meg's jaw drop nearly to the floor. "Christine!" the ballerina squealed excitedly. "Shh!" shushed Christine, "Please Meg, don't tell anyone!" Meg nodded, a beaming smile still across her face. "Mademoiselle Daae'! If I may speak to you for a moment please?" called Monsieur Reyer. Christine assured her return to meg before walking quickly to her director. During the two minutes that she was gone, Desirae asked Meg, "What happened?" Meg quickly whispered in her ear and Desirae gasped at the secret, "A transgression?" "A transgression," said Meg with a smile.

Desirae quickly scampered off while Christine was walking back to Meg, "As if that aria wasn't hard enough! Now the last high A is changed all the way up to..." She never finished her sentence. As she glanced up from the sheet music in her hands, she noticed that the entire corps de ballet had circled around her, all of them looking at her with a proud smile on their faces. "Bonjour?" said Christine, feeling awkward. Amelie had stepped forward from the group of girls and leaned into Christine's ear to say, "We hear there's been a ... 'transgression' between you and your voice coach." Christine darted her eyes to Meg and nearly shouted, "Well! Good news sure travels fast!"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Christine sat in a chair with her arms crossed tight over her chest, muttering under her breath, "This is stupid." "Oh c'mon Chris! How else will you and your music teacher progress more if we don't teach you how to flirt?" said Meg. "Don't be embarresed, Christine. All of us will help you!" assured Desirae. "Just like how we all helped with Claudia!" cheered Amelie. Christine turned to her and asked, "Speaking of which, I haven't seen her in a few weeks..."

"Well, that's because she's with child."

"What?"

"Christine," Meg cut in before Christine could change her mind, "It's all very simple. You're already very pretty and being a ballerina has already shaped your body beautifully. Another good factor is that you're already limber as well." Christine thought and asked, "What does that have to do with anything?" The ballerinas snickered as did Meg when she patted the top of her head and said, "You'll find out soon enough." high above them, Angelique watched the odd scene from the rafters, wishing her tail back and forth and eager to see how this plays out; This is going to be fun!

"Alright, Lesson One!" proclaimed Meg as if she was really a school teacher and gestured for Christine to rise out of the chair so she could sit. "Now let us pretend I am a man-" "In a tutu?" asked Antionette. "I'm a man!" Meg shouted back, "As I was saying, I'm a man- your music teacher! What's his name?" All the girls excitedly turned to hear the name of Christine's teacher/secret lover but Christine froze in place and stammered, "Hi- his name?" The girls nodded and some gestured for her to go on. "He... His... Well, it's hard to pronou-..." Just then, a loud meow came from above and Christine looked up to see Angelique give a warning glance. "Well, I just call him 'Maestro' " she finally answered.

"Sounds delicious..." a ballerina named Marie said. The girls all laughed but stopped and gasped to see how fast Christine had turned her head to Marie. "Christine!" exclaimed someone. "What?" Christine asked. "I'm sorry, Christine," said Marie rather sheepishly, "I was only teasing." "What do you mean?" she asked. "Christine, you shot daggers with your eyes at Marie!" said Meg just as shocked as everyone else, "I have never seen that in you before." Christine couldn't believe it, "I did? Oh Marie I'm so sorry! I didn't realize- I didn't mean... I know I you were joking but..." She sighed as she buried her face in her hands, feeling the rush of heat in her cheecks; What in the world is happening to me? Desirae said, "It's alright to be a little possessive, Christine." Antionette laughed, "A little?"

"May we please get back to Christine's life lesson?" shouted Meg. All the girls silenced as Meg began to speak, "Alright I am 'maestro'. We just finished another lesson and I am sitting in my chair. Can you picture it?" Christine could actually see it quite clearly in her head; Erik sitting in his throne before the hearth, perhaps reading a book or simply thinking. She nodded and Meg continued, "Good. Now what do you do?" Christine shrugged, "Nothing." "Nothing?" all the girls asked at once. "Well, yes, nothing. I don't want to disturb his train of thought or take him away from whatever he may be reading," Christine explained.

Meg shook her head and said, "This is going to need a lot more work than I had thought but that's alright! Don't look so hopeless yet! That goes for you too, Chris. Desirae, come hither." Desirae stepped forward from the group and asked, "Yes?" "Show our pupil a prime example of luring a man to your whim," said Meg so loud that Christine looked around to make sure that no one else besides the girls had heard this shmorgezbord of humiliation. Meg sat up strait and mimed reading a book as Desirae asked in a sweet small voice with a smile and sat on Meg's lap, "What are you reading, Monsie- I mean Maestro?" Meg lowered her voice as she did with 'Olga' before only without the accent this time, "I am reading 'The Study of Shnecklyn-ger-daben-deb', my dear." Desirae broke character, "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know but act as if you're interested. That's a note you might want to make, Chris; pretend you're interested in his interests, even if it's as boring and a waste of life as Carlotta."

"Also if he makes a joke, genuinely hilairious or just stupid, laugh anyway."

Do girls really just lie the entire time, Christine thought. "Anyway," Meg dropped her voice again, "The study of shnecklyn-ger-flabben-deb!" Desirae corrected, "Gaben-deb." "I thought it was 'daben-deb'?" shouted Marie. "It doesn't matter because it doesn't exist!" Meg shouted. Desirae continued her act, "Oh maestro that sounds very interesting! Please read an excerpt for me!" Desirae cuddled close to Meg as she read off an imaginary page, "Chapter Twenty-Two; this sentence is the beginning of said chapter, a history of the study of which this book is based. Enjoy."

A pretty young ballerina with beautiful red hair that Christine had always envied stepped forward to explain a key point in this example, "See how Desirae isn't a far away statue? She's very relaxed, loose, open, and easy to whisk off, just like Meg's pantaloons." The ballerinas erupted into laughter as Meg stood from the chair, making Desirae fall off her lap to the ground, and shouted, "Shut up, Vivienne! I'm the one giving the lesson!" "Well I haven't seen you explain anything, Maestro Flabben-Gabben," Vivienne argued. This is a very long break," Christine realized aloud. "What is going on here?" yelled Madame Giry. "Nothing, mother," answered Meg very monotone.

"Nothing? Look at the floor!"

Everyone turned to see that Desirae had still been on the floor but she quickly got to her feet when she noticed Madame. "Everyone to the practice room! Now!" the woman shouted. "Well, now we know where Meg acquired her shouting from," mumbled Antionette to Marie. All the girls followed in a straight line behind Madame but Amelie stayed behind to whisper to Christine, "Honestly, just be yourself. I don't think you need to do all of this mess to capture a man. Lord knows these girls have done worse things and they are still here. You'll know what to do. I wish you both all the best!"

Amelie was often very quiet but when she spoke, it was always the right thing to say. Christine mouthed the words 'thank you' to her as she caught up with the rest. Rehearsals continued until the end of the day. Christine looked up about the rafters to look for her fluffy chubby angel. She felt a sudden tug on the back of her dress and turned to see Angelique on the floor besides her skirts; ready to go? They walked together to her dressing room and Christine quickly changed, eager to finally check on Erik's health.

Christine noticed that Angelique was leading her to the edge of the lake rather than the narrow walkway they had taken earlier. When they arrived there, Christine's heart glowed bright enough to light all the caverns to see Erik waiting at the small dock for her. She nearly ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, "I was worried about you all throughout rehearsal. Are you feeling alright?" "All the more better now that you're here," he sighed with a smile, God he loved holding her. "I wanted to show you something," and he led her into the boat after him with Angelique.

They rowed down the usual waterways or at least so it seemed. Erik asked her about rehearsal and Christine told him of Reyer's music changes. "It was fine the way it was written!" he exclaimed. "I agree. I think Carlotta had requested the change." Erik shook his head in annoyance, "The woman can barely sing a middle C." Christine's giggle was enough to make him smile.

Christine realized there was a sudden light in the catacombs when she turned to face forward, she gasped at the absolute beauty of what she saw before her. They had entered a cave with tinted moonlight beaming down through the stain glass ceiling. There were statues of the gods Apollo, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus, each with their own magnificent waterfall, creating an almost magical mist along the water's surface. She looked up to the gorgeous stain-glass design of Persephone surrounded by beautiful flowers of all kinds.

Christine noticed another statue that seemed to float along the water with them; Hades on the Ferry to the Underworld and a crying Persephone with him. "Remind you of anyone?" asked Erik. He couldn't hide the sadness in his voice even if he tried. "These stories were always my favorite," he said. "You made all of this?" she asked astonished. He nodded with a shrug before she added, "How?" "Magic," he answered as though it were obvious. He added, "I never would have guessed that these stories would have almost been a premonition for myse- Angelique! Stop trying to get the fish! You'll fall off and guess who has to get you!"

True to prediction, Angelique feel over the edge and into the water before Christine could grab her. "What did I tell her. That girl is so stubborn but I'm afraid I have to admit she must've gotten it from me."

"Erik, she hasn't resurfaced..."

"She'll be back.''

Just then a large silver and red fish that was the size of the boat, erupted from the water with Angelique clinging to it's scales. "Ah, Thank you, Victor," said Erik while leaning over and prying Angelique away. "What in the world..." Christine whispered breathlessly. "This is Victor. As you can tell, he is the most unique and friendliest fish in the sea, or lake rather," exclaimed Erik enthusiastically. Christine asked, "Victor?"

"I don't know, he just looked like a Victor to me at the time."

Christine smiled, "what kind of fish is he?"

"He's really one of a kind, the poor fellow. He's a ShnecklyngerGabendeb."

Later, they had their usual lesson in his home only this time it was more focused on the music she was to perform in a few days. She was reluctant at first for their lesson, insisting that it would better he rest his bandaged hand but he explained that it didn't hurt him at all though in reality it was a small annoyance. Still, he managed to play the music without a second to his hand. Erik was proud of how far she had come as a performer; he couldn't help but smile as she glided effortlessly through the music. Christine noticed his smile and it only made her more eager for the performance to please him. He brought the music to a close on the keys, his smile never dimming, "I don't believe I've ever heard a singer more ready for a performance before tonight." She shrugged sweetly, "The only reason I'm not so nervous is because it's only matinee and very few people go to matinees." "You really should be singing the evening show," he said as he stood and began to make his way to the kitchen. "I suppose," said Christine while she took a seat on the couch beside Angelique, "but Carlotta's name brings in more money and patrons than a 'little toad'." A Toad, Angelique thought, I'd rather listen to a toad than a bellowing cow of a whale. "And where, dare I ask, did you get the idea that you were a toad?" Erik called from the kitchen in a stern voice that made Christine afraid to answer. "Well-" he began to mumble lowly as if she could deter him.

"Christine."

"Is it just me or did Angelique's fur get softer?"

"Christine, don't make me raise my voice."

"Carlotta."

Christine cringed as she admitted to Carlotta's name-calling. There a small pause before Erik said, "That whale." See? Angelique thought. Christines was concerned now, "Erik?" "Come to the dining room please," he called. She walked into the dining room and was surprised to see that dinner had been prepared and set. He pulled out her chair for her before placing a bowl of milk for Angelique on the floor for Angelique and finally taking his seat. "Erik, you're not going to hurt Carlotta are you?" she asked. "Hurt your very best friend? Never!" he said sarcastically while already cutting his food. "Erik." He looked up at her and gave a heavy sigh. "I know she's not exactly the most favorited person in the company but please, promise you won't hurt her," Christine begged. "Alright, I promise you won't hurt her," he said with a grin. "Thank you," she said, not realizing what he just said. He wuickly changed the subject to other things; music, the cave he had shown her earlier, trying to get Angelique away from his plate, the usual.

After dinner as Christine was cleaning up, Erik took the oppurtunity to lie on the couch and close his eyes for a quick second. He suddenly felt a slight pressure on his chest and opened his eyes to Christine kneeling on the floor before the couch. "Oh it's you," he sighed with relief, "for a moment I thought it was that damn cat aga-" As he tried to sit up, Christine's hand slid from his chest to his shoulder with a heavier pressure, forcing him to lie back again. He swallowed hard as her fingers slid up along his neck, "W-what are you doing?" He small hands grasped the edges of his mask and lifted away the hard material, tossing it to the carpeted floor. "Ch-Christine..." he stammered before losing the rest of his breath in a deep exhale. Her hands were running through his hair before they suddenly cupped his face and brought it to hers for a ferocious kiss. As shocked and confused as he was, he wasn't complaining either. He kissed her back with as much fire and delve his tongue deep between her lips as he moaned to taste her kiss. He tore his misshapen lips away to kiss her neck below her ear and she sighed a heavenly breath. Her hand began to slide down his chest, over his stomach and still lower yet.

Before she could reach the part of him that was aching the most, he felt a sharp pain in his bandaged hand that made him sit up lightening fast and Angelique, who was sleeping on his chest, was sent flying to the floor thus giving a literal meaning to the word 'catapult'. He looked around and still heard the clattering of dishes from the kitchen meaning that Christine was still washing dishes. He didn't know what was more disappointing; that it was all a dream or... Actually, yes, that it was just a dream. He heard the kitchen silenced then followed by Christine's approaching footsteps. He sat up correctly and realized he had a very noticeable erection. He rolled his eyes, Jesus, it was as if he was sixteen all over again! He heard her footsteps coming closer. Busy! He had to look busy! He got up to run to the piano but changed his mind and grabbed any book from the nearby shelves then sat back down with his legs crossed while quickly opening the book to any random page. As he began to read, his brow furrowed beneath the mask to recognize the words he was reading, "If this is what I think it is..." He closed the book to read 'The Bible' in gold letters on it's cover. He looked up and said "Very funny" before kicking the book to under the shelves. He didn't even know he had a bible in his home. He reached over to grab another book when Christine walked in, "ange?" He faced her, "yes?"

"I was curious about something," She said. "That's new" he said with a smile. "Could you... Maybe read something to me?" she asked shyly. After the lesson with Meg and the other ballerinas, she wondered how it would be if Erik did read to her. With the voice he has, she was sure he could bring any story to life. "Now that certainly is new, a request I haven't gotten in a while," he said. There was one book that immediately caught her eye as she pulled it from the shelf. "What book is that," he asked. She said, "I'm not sure. The cover is faded and the first few pages are missing." "Read to me any page and I'm sure I can recognize it," he told her. She opened the book and read, " 'My mind has reached the farthest horiz-' "

"Stop. Put that one back."

"Why?"

"Copyrights."

"Oh." She placed the book back and reached for the books on the top shelf. "No!" he shouted so suddenly that Christine and Angelique both jumped. "I mean," he stammered, "none from up there please. Those books are... Not for reading... Aloud." He saw curiosity's gleam in her sweet brown eyes, "Why, I wonder." She tried reaching again but Erik grasped her hips in his hands and brought her to sit next to him. He reached over as quick as he could and grabbed an old book of poems, "I believe this should suffice."

They laughed at the humorous poems, discussed over the historical poems and together they absorbed every word read by his melodious voice. Erik read and read until he began to feel Christine's head leaning on his shoulder. "Would you like to go to sleep, ange?" he asked softly. "No, no," she begged though her fatigue was obvious through her voice, "please keep reading, Erik." He read the next poem that nearly bore him to slumber as well so he checked the other following and found that were just as interesting. She cuddled closer to his warm shape whilst he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. He found himself thinking of words and began to say his own poem;

"Alone in the dark I've always stood  
>Listening, watching and learning.<br>Then there was you and it was then I finally understood  
>watching, listening, and yearning<br>I listened to you sing and my heart cried with the angels above.  
>I watched you smile and felt warmth at the sight.<br>In the dark, I had seen people in love  
>knowing the monster I am, I believed I'd never feel it's light<br>but there was you and I hope you don't prove me right.  
>I love you forever when together and when apart<br>though you an angel and I a monster, we are the same at heart  
>and though it may never come true,<br>I hope and pray that someday I'll hear you say-"

"I love you, too"

It was the softest whisper that he would've believed he imagined it but he saw her lips mouth the words. He felt tears sting his eyes as she cuddled even closer yet to him. He couldn't believe it as badly as he wanted but he wasn't going to ruin this moment with doubt. He held her tighter and kissed the crown of her head as best as he could with the mask in the way. He was afraid of falling asleep, not because of nightmares but because he didn't want to wake up from this perfect dream.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

In the middle of the night, Erik had awoken on the couch with Christine in his arms. He knew she needed all the rest she could get so he gently stood and lifted her small body off the couch. "Erik..." she called drousely in her sleep. "Shh, rest petite," he whispered softly. She leaned her head against his chest as he walked slowly to her room so as to savour this moment. Her hand grasped onto the lapel of his jacket and tugged slightly. She said, "Please don't put me in my room." He kissed the crown of her head, "You have to sleep well tonite, you have a dress rehearsal later." She groaned in annoyance and leaned her head firmer against him. "I know, I know," he said, "Just rest for now." He carried her to her room and placed her atop of her bed. As he was pulling the covers over her, she asked, "Will you be at rehearsals tomorrow?" "Of course," He said kneeling beside the bed. "And the Matinee performance?" she smiled. He chuckled, "Need you even ask? Your angel will always be watching over you, especially in your greatest moments." With trembling hands, he reached for hers and gave a feather-light kiss to her knuckle. She closed her eyes as she sighed, "Good night, _ange._"

"Good night, _ma petite."_ He made sure the fireplace in her room was well lit to make sure the air wouldn't chill. He then quietly walked out of her room and closed the door with a soft click. Christine then opened her eyes, _please believe my heart, mon ange._

Erik walked to his room with a sweet grin curving the corner of his lips. As he entered the bathchambers and readied for bed, his movements stopped when he happened to glance at the mirror. He was surprised to see his mask but how could he forget it? This damned thing had been a neccesary part of his life just as much as breathing. Christine made him forget who he was; with her he felt, dare he say it, like everyone else. She said she loved him...

_But can she love you without your mask? _

The Voice had startled him and made him look around the room frantically. _You need to look no farther than the mirror to find me. _He refused to look at his reflection. _Ask yourself; Can she love you without your mask to hide what you truly are? You can't even accept yourself. _"That's different!" he snapped aloud, "she's different." _And so are you! _It screamed in his head. _You think you're like everyone else? Not everyone has a history of murdering thousands and being being feared by more. Even Christine is frightened of you. You saw it youself when she removed your mask! Your face tells the history of the atrocities you've comitted. She feared you! _"Fear can turn to love and it has!" he cried desperately on the edge of tears.

_What has become of you, my friend? _"You're not my friend!" Erik hissed. _Oh but I am!_ It proclaimed confidently. _I know you better than no one else on this Earth. I listened to you when you cried as a young boy. I gave you courage when you were frightened. We were so powerful you and I, don't you remember? In Persia I made- _"You made me into the monster, I look!" Erik finished. _I made you a God! _The Voice had roared in Erik's head so loud that he fell to his knees in pain. _You think you don't need me but you do. I'll let you live this fantasy that Christine truly loves you a little longer. When you see that your pathetic hope was wasted, you'll need me again. _Then there was silence... And doubt... But Erik knew Christine loved him. She wouldn't lie to him.

There were two dress rehearsals, The early morning one was the rehearsal Christine had to attend for matinee performers. The first Act went smoothly minus a few technicalities with the stagehands. During the intermission before the second Act, Christine was approached by Meg, "Chris, you were marvelous! So much better than that cow we all have to listen to later. You have a visitor!" Christine's stomach flipped like a crepe, "It's not Raoul is it?"

"No"

"Thank God!"

"It's Phillipe."

Christine brow furrowed in confusion, _His brother? _ "He explained that the Vicomte was still away but had sent you a gift. Do you know if he's as handsome as Raoul?" asked Meg. Christine thought for a brief moment, "I'm not sure, I haven't seen him in years. Why?" Meg shrugged as she lead her to his direction, "Oh, just wondering. The other girls were making such a huge fuss!"

Phillipe immediately recognized Christine as they approached, "Madamioselle Daae'! It has been so long! My how you've grown!" He unashamedly glanced up and down over her whole form making Christine immediately wrap her costume shawl closely around herself. Erik, who had been watching from the rafters above the auditorium, noticed the Comte's unreserved ogling. He knew the Comte de Chagny had quite the reputation in the "more refined" parts of Paris. Angelique had been watching from Erik's shoulder and could feel the jealousy radiate off him. She patted his other shoulder reassuringly with her tail, _Don't worry, Master. Christine knows better. _Erik reached up his hand to scratch behind Angelique's ear and she purred loudly in response.

It was then that Erik sparked an idea. "Angelique," he whispered, "Go to the Comte and try to gain his aquaintance." Angelique looked at him in confusion, _Master, you realize I am a feline and he is human. Therefore I cannot "gain his aquai-" wait, what do you mean? _ "Go on!" said Erik, "Welcome him to my Opera House." Angelique pounced from Erik's shoulder onto a wooden beam and climbed up. You can learn a lot about a man's behavior by how he treats innocent animals. Well, Angelique wasn't exactly innocent but she could certainly play the part if food was her incentive. Erik continued to watch the conversation between Phillipe and Christine. Unfortunately, he was too far to listen and he had get closer but getting closer meant he had to take his eyes off them for a few moments. "Damn," he'll just have to move fast.

Meanwhile, "Did you want to speak to me about something?" Phillipe cleared his throat, "Yes, my brother asked me to bring you this." He handed her a small box of assorted chocolates. _How creative, _Christine thought. "He said he remembers that you were quite a fan of chocolates when you both were children," added Phillipe, his eyes still running all over her. Yes, when they were _children._ Christine loved chocolate as a child but had grew tired of it as she got older. "Yes, a very fond memory I cherish. Please tell Raoul I said thank you for his kind thoughts," said Christine. Phillipe had taken a breath to say something when Angelique nudged her head against his pantleg and meowed loudly. _Funny how the Vicomte smelled like lavender and this one smells like jasmine... and alchohol. He also looks like the handsome pirate no one on the crew likes, _thought Angelique. It was true, Phillipe was tall, dark, and possesed a goatee. He was very handsome indeed. _Too handsome, _Christine thought. "Why hello, little one," said Phillipe. Christine chuckled, "Please excuse her, she's just welcoming you to her theater." "_Her _theater?" he asked almost as if he had been offended. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that, Monsieur Comte," said Christine.

"No harm done," he said with a charming smile, "I believe your rehearsal is about to resume but before you leave, let me just say that any friend of Raoul's is a friend of mine so should you need _any_ favors done you, don't be shy to ask me." Niether Christine or Angelique liked his tone, "Please excuse me, I must prepare for the next act. Meg, we have to-" Christine stopped midsentence when she turned and saw Meg pretending to be stretching her legs in clear view of the Comte. "Meg, what are you doing?" asked Christine. "Oh just making sure I'm nice and limber for the next Act whilst looking in this general direction," said Meg as if she wasn't practically posing for Phillipe. "Well that's good because the next Act is about to start," said Christine urgently. Meg stopped to listen and indeed she could hear the orchestra warming up, "Alright, let's go then." "Good bye, Monsieur and thank you," bid Christine as she walked away with Meg.

Phillipe watched Christine walk and took notice of the way her body moved. He then felt a warmth and pressure on his shoe. He found Angelique laying back on his shoe and looking up at him with big green innocent eyes. She tilted her head sweetly and meowed as she glanced up at him, half expecting him to bend down and pet her belly. _No one can resist these eyes,_ thought Angelique confidently. "_You're _theater," he repeated, "This theater belongs to the Changy family." He jerked his foot hard enough to make Angelique jump off his foot, _Alright well fuck you too, then! _She swung her claws deep into his ankle making him squeel like a girl but Angelique bolted to Christine before he could retaliate.

"How did this even happen?" Erik growled as he was working the rope that had somehow tangled around his leg. "Finally!" he proclaimed as he got himself free and quickly jumped to the next beam. He was upset to see that the conversation between Phillipe and Christine had already finished without his supervision but he noticed Christine walking with a small box and placing it on a table off-stage. Perhaps a some gaudy piece of jewelery for her? He went down to find out himself.

Hiding underneath the floorboards and walls, Erik gave away to a secret entrance that was just in the wings. He quietly retrieved the small box and went back behind the walls. "How creative," he said to himself as he opened the box to find chocolates. He picked up one treat and observed it. _They probably taste like dirt, trash, and every other disgusting non-edible item one can imagine, _he thought. Just to prove himself correct, he placed the chocolate in his mouth, already preparing to gag. "God damn it, that's delicious!" he exclaimed angrily. _That was probably the only one that tastes good, _he popped two more chocolates in his mouth. "Shit fuck!" he said with his mouth full of ridiculously amazing chocolate. He huffed his fustrataion and shook his head, "I _hate_ the Vicomte." And he ate another chocolate.

Rehearsals for the matinee show had finished along splendidly. Christine recieved an applause from the cast and crew when she performed her arias. When it was all over finally, Christine picked up her box from the table and noticed it felt rather light. She looked inside the box and asked Meg, "Did you eat any of these?" The ballerina shook her head and said, "No, why?" "More than half of the box is gone!" she proclaimed. "Well, you know I don't care much for chocolates," said Meg, "Do you know anyone in the opera with a sweet-tooth?" Christine had a sudden flashback of Erik rumaging through his cabinets and empty boxes of chocolates looking for a snack the night he told her of his past. "Actually, I do," she said with a grin. "Well then it must've been them," said Meg, "See you tomorrow for another rehearsal, Chris." Christine glanced up to the rafters and saw Erik pretending to glance around the ceiling. She saw Angelique climb onto Erik's shoulder and nudge her face lovingly into the side of his mask. Call it silly but Christine felt a slight twang of jealousy when she witnessed that little scene. Erik's eyes motioned to her dressing room and she nodded in agreement.

Just as she began to walk, she heard an anguished cry coming from the distance. All eyes turned to Comte throwing his hat to the ground and demanding, "Where's that cat!" The stagehands looked at him in bewilderment. "The cat! The fat black cat that runs around here!" he continued to yell. "Why, Monsieur?" asked Tristan. "The fat thing pissed in my hat!" he screamed. Christine immediately began to laugh as she rushed to her dressing room. Erik gave a questioning look to Angelique, "He must've deserved it then?" _I believe, Monsieur Comte, that the advective you meant to use was fluffy._

"I thought my high notes we're done correctly?" asked Christine when Erik said they needed to do a bit of work tonight for lessons. "They were! You sung them exquisitely, perfect pitch and perfect clarity but it's your low notes we have to work on," he dragged his finger along the staffs on the music sheet as he sat at the piano, "Some the notes you're supposed to sing are too low for a soprano and actually register for an alto but this shouldn't take too long to go over." He played the scales used for _mezzo-_sopranos and was surprised to discover how much of a wide range Christine's voice had. He had been so focused on her high notes that he never actually listened when she began to sing lower in her music. He was even more surprised to realize that he loved her voice when it dropped to as low as an A below Middle C just as much when she sang a high B. _She really is an Angel of Music, _he thought.

When they began simply reviewing the scales, Angelique began to rub against Christine's skirts. "Someone wants your attention," teased Erik. Christine reached down to cradle Angelique in her arms and pet the soft fur of her belly. She laughed to feel the feline's strong purr in her chest. Erik reached over to scratch Angelique's chin which made her close her eyes in delight. "You know if you rub her belly up and down, she'll lean back and stretch her front paws," said Erik. "Really?" Christine laughed. "Go on, try it," he insisted. Christine rubbed her belly as he said and sure enough Angelique did lean back over Christine's arm and stretched her paws, right then left, right, left. Christine and Erik laughed as Angelique thought to herself, _humans are so easily entertained._

"How did you manage to own such an intelligent little feline?" Christine inquired. He smiled remembering the night, "Some years ago, before I met you, I was walking through the streets at night with nothing much to do. The snow that was falling that night was begining to grow into a storm and I was already headed home. Then I heard a small high pitched crying in an alley. I followed the sound and I found a tiny black kitten nearly buried completely in snow. I picked her up in my hand; she was so light and shaking so much from the cold. When she looked at me, it seemed like she was begging me for help..." Christine remembered how he had said the same thing about the Angelique in Persia, how she seemed to have begged him for help with just one gaze. He continued, "I couldn't leave her there in the snow so I wrapped her in my handkerchief, I held her inside my coat and took her home. Since then she's been the most wonderful and loyal little friend, as well an anchor to my sanity sometimes. Did you ever have a pet, Christine?" She continued to pet Angelique, "He wasn't ours but there was a cat that visited our house everyday. Papa and I named him Monsieur because he was always so polite. I cried so much the day Monsieur stopped visiting."

Erik suddenly remembered that he was low on food to make for dinner. The only option he could think of was... He really didn't want to leave his home but- "Would you like to go to cafe' for dinner tonight?" Christine's eyes lit up and she smiled brightly, "Really, Erik? Truly, you mean it?" "Yes, I think you deserve a night out for all the hard work you've done and besides, I'm low on supplies," he said, "Grab your cloak and bring a thick scarf as well, it's snowing outside." It warmed his heart to see her so excited; she nearly ran to her room to get dressed! He walked to his room when Angelique stopped him, "Would you like to come as well?" _Is the Opera Ghost a virgin?_ She purred loudly and rubbed against his legs. "Alright you can come but stay close," said Erik. He walked to his room and closed the door behind Angelique when she followed him.

He decided to change his shirt and cravat for dinner, he was happy he made Christine so excited but he wasn't too pleased with the idea of being amongst people. He momentarily took off his mask so he could comb his hair nicely with pomade for the occasion. He began to comb his hair back when the Voice began to speak, _You could be dressed to the nines but you still need your mask, Monsieur Monstre. _He ignored the Voice's remarks and parted his hair at the side, slighty pulled his hair foreward at the front and combed back the ends. _You're getting old, Erik,_ It laughed. Erik rolled his eyes but he caught sight of a few greying strands at his temples, much like his father had. He shook the memory from his mind and fastened his white mask in place. A black shirt and deep red cravat were his choices for the evening, _Your old imperial colors from Persia, I see._ Beginning to be annoyed with the Voice, He yanked off his jacket, vest, tie, and shirt to hurry since it didn't seem to say much in Christine's presence. He pulled on his black shirt and though he tried his hardest to ignore the sight of his damaged torso, he couldn't look away from every scar across his body. Screams and cries erupted loudly in his head; his victims before they enetered his torture chambers, their screams as they burned alive, Angelique's scream, his own cries when he recieved the marks on his body. He brought his hands to ears and groaned in pain. Louder and louder the screams grew, he fell to the floor and Angelique immediately went to his side. "Stop, stop, please, stop," he begged the Voice. _Why should I? You didn't. _Louder and louder it they still grew, _What is in us that turns a deaf ear to the cries of human suffering? _ He writhed on the floor at the pain from the sounds. Angelique tried to comfort him by licking his chin but saw it wasn't helping so she ran to his door. She jumped high to the handle and opened the door to get Christine but Erik got to his feet again, "Stop it, stop please," he still begged. He ordered, "_Stop!" _There was immediate silence in his head and he sighed his relief before quickly finished getting dressed.

Because Christine's door handle was locked, Angelique had no other option but to scratch at the door until she opened it. She had just finished pinning back her hair neatly when she opened the door and the cat immediately walked around her and lead her to Erik's open door. She cautiously followed her but paused when she saw Erik buttoning his shirt at his chest. At the open neck of of his collar, she could see a scar that was once a large burn across his collarbone and disapearing beneath the stark starched black fabric. Her eyes roamed over his strong back when he buttoned his black on black embroidered vest. As he picked up his shirt collar to put on his cravat, she caught sight the numbers inked into his skin behind his ear.

_"In that asylum in Madrid, they didn't expect their patients to live long and rather than giving them names, they gave them numbers." _229666

"Do I meet your approval?" teased Erik when he caught her staring at him in the reflection of the mirror. "Oh! Um, I- I'm sorry!" she laughed nervously when she felt the embarresing heat rush to her features, _Damn it, Christine! _Erik laughed, "You may stay in here if you like, I'm practically finished anyway." She watched him tie his cravat neatly and put on his coat with all the grace a human could possibly posess. She had a urge to ask him not to wear the mask but she knew that was impossible. She was beginning to realize that she nearly _hated _the mask...

Dinner was awkward at first since Erik was obviously uncomfortable with the stares people we're giving him. Seeing the stares herself, looped her arm in his giving him confidence when she smiled at him. As they walked to their table, she saw one woman who was taking in Erik's masculine form and even ignoring her gentleman friend while she stared. Christine purposely threw herself into the woman's view and shot her a glare, _That's right turn around, whore. _Their meal was decent when compared to Erik's cooking but Christine enjoyed the conversations she had with him most of all. "Where's Angelique?" she asked suddenly. "She's most likely charming her way to food in the back of the cafe'," said Erik.

"Go! Shoo!" yelled the chef but Angelique continued to purr and wrap her tail around his ankle. _And now for the kill,_ She rolled to her back and looked at him with her green eyes. "No! Don't give me that! Get away!" he said. She brushed her paw across her face and looked at him with one eye. "No," he said, losing conviction with every adorable gesture. She dragged herself to her feet and looked up at him one more time. He shook his head and crossed his arms at her tiny form. She let her ears and her head hang low as she began to slowly walk away. "Alright, Fine!" he exclaimed. He returned with a small tray of chicken and fish slices and he brought her a small dish of milk! _I've struck gold! _

As they were finishing their meal, Erik asked, "Christine... You know that I love you very much, that I would do whatever it takes to make you happy?" Christine smiled, "Of course, I do. Is something wrong?" "No, no, it's just... I..." He was afraid to bring up that she told him she loved him. Sensing this, Christine reached over the table and placed her hand in his, "Everything I said last night is true." Having heard Christine's last sentence, a man sitting at the next table turned around and regarded them oddly. "Turn around," Erik told him before he looked to Christine, "Everything, _ange?_" She lightly squeezed his hand and nodded with a smile. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, daring to let his lips linger for a moment. Christine felt heat invade her stomach and her face when she felt Erik's lips and his warm breath on her hand. "Let's go home," he said with a smile. The waiter came to pick up their check when Christine asked, "Could you please give my compliments to the chef?" "Absolutely! Will do!" said the young waiter, "Soon as we find out where the hell he is..."

"Then she confesses that my son _isn't my son!" _sobbed the chef to Angelique. She was too full to even comprehend what the crazy man sitting beside her was even talking about for the past half hour. She every so often placed her paw over his hand to give the illusion that she understood. "You know," he sniffed, "for a cat, you're a good listener." Christine asked as they walked onto the sidewalk, "Wait! How will we find Angelique?" Erik snapped his fingers twice and Angelique's ears perked up. She was about to leave when she climbed onto the chef's lap, licked his cheek and placed her paw lightly on his nose, _Don't worry, my friend; even Jesus had to go through hell before he was given heaven. Au revoir et de mon mieux de voeux à vous! _She hurried off to meet her master. "Good bye, my friend!" said the chef. "Where the hell- Ah, there you are!" said Erik as Angelique approached them and they began to head home.

Erik hadn't realized how late it was when they were walking to the Rue Scribe. He was hoping they wouldn't run into any trouble on the way there but he was prepared if they did. Though he promised himself he would never touch anything from Persia again, he wore weapons of his own design on his forearms underneath his sleeves. With the proper flick of the wrist, daggers would spring forth from his wrists and lock in place should he be in combat. He never actually used them but often practiced with them anyway; he could never be too careful around these streets at night. Christine was enjoying the outside but every so often she heard a sound behind them as they walked. She kept thinking perhaps it was just Angelique but she was walking on the rooftops above them. She called herself silly for making up noises in her mind, besides she had Erik with her. Angelique was a ahead of them by a few buildings and decided to hunt down a rat until they caught up.

They walked down a dark walkway when Erik saw a policeman ahead of them. He didn't want rumors about Christine spreading in the newspapers just before her show. He lightly pushed Christine to the nearest wall and began kissing her fiercely. Christine was completely taken by surprise but she saw the policeman in her peripherial and understood what Erik was doing. She quickly wrapped her arms around Erik's neck to cover any view of his mask. The old policeman viewed the passionate scene and laughed, "Good evening, you two," and kept walking. Erik pulled to make sure he was gone from view, "I'm sorry I did that but the last thing you need before a big performance is a rumor of you walking around with a masked man. It wouldn't be good for your ima-" Before he could finish his sentence, Christine pressed her lips firmly to his and molded her body as close as she could to him. He decided to give in and melt into her kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and sliding his tongue between her lips. She mewed her delight at the heat of his mouth in the frigid cold air around them and eagerly kissed him back.

When her bare hands caressed his neck, he shuddered violently down his spine and caught her bottom lip between his teeth for a soft bite. Such actiosn from Erik had created such a strong urgency in her that she never felt before he entered her life. She let her hands drift down his chest to his waist and back up to his collar. She could feel his heart pounding even through all the material and saw his harsh breaths in gusts of mist. He abruptly tilted her head up with his hands and kissed her neck beneath her ear. She moaned softly and begged, "Please, Erik, don't stop." His lips continued down the side of her throat while her hands managed to snake their way beneath his vest.

She opened her eyes and gasped in horror. "What? What is it?" he asked worriedly. He heard men's laughter behind him and his stomach dropped. Erik released her to straighten his appearance as well as his mask but had yet to face them. "Don't let us interrupt you," one of them laughed. "_Please, Erik, don't stop," _said another as one imitated Christine's moan. Christine immediately blushed and looked down, embarresed that her unbridled reaction had been seen by someone else other than Erik. "Aw chin up, sweetheart," one chided. The next voice sounded close and Erik could see the man approaching out of the corner of his eye, "There's nothing for you to be afraid of, dearie. Just so you know, miss, I can give you so much more pleasure than him." Erik snatched his wrist and twisted it as far as back as he could making the man fall to knees in the snow. They gasped at the sight of Erik's mask and were obviously intimidated. "You will not touch her," Erik growled, "and the same goes for the rest of you!" The man on his knees said, "You didn't say anything for the boys in the back."

Two men came up from behind Christine and tried to drag her away. Before Erik could react, the man on the floor, who also appeared to be the leader of the pack, tried to throw his fist into Erik's stomach but Erik caught it with his other hand and stomped his heel into his face whilst pulling his hands back. Two men grabbed Erik's arms and tried to hold him back while a third punched his fist hard into Erik's ribs. Christine screamed and tried to break free from her captors as they laughed, "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll take care of you." "Let go of me, you bastards!" she yelled. "Quite the mouth on this one! That will come to good use later, won't it?" one exclaimed while the rest laughed. "You fucker!" Erik yelled but the third man pounded his fist into his stomach and he fell to his knees. "Erik!" Christine called but one of them men holding her placed his grimey hand over her mouh. "What the matter, honey? Wouldn't you like to kiss a real cock?" asked the laughing one. She bit hard into his hand, tasting blood as he cried, "Ah! The bitch bit me!" The leader had gotten up from the ground and over to Erik's kneeling form, "All we wanted, sir, was a little show." Erik lifted his head, "Fuck you." The leader slammed his fist against mouth but the mask injured him in return.

"What are you wearing that fuckin' mask for?" he demanded as he rubbed his knuckles. "You," he called the one who had attacked Erik before, "Get a carriage. After we finish him, we're gonna take the little miss home." The ran off into the streets as the leader turned back to Erik, "What's the mask for, huh? Maybe your little whore could tell us." Christine saw blood dripping from Erik's mouth and painting the snow red below him. "Why the mask, love?" he asked. "She's not your love," Erik growled. "Well since no one is cooperating, we're just gonna have to find out ourselves," he laughed, "Now let's have a look shall we?" He reached for his mask but Erik turned his face away. One of the men holding him grabbed him by his hair and forced his head back for the leader to tear off his mask.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" the leader yelled in disgust at the sight of what the mask hid. The other man holding Erik let go of him in shock and that was his biggest mistake. His mismatched eyes glowed fire in the night with rage as he grabbed the hand that held his hair and broke the arm over his knee. He got to his feet and immediately head to Christine but one of the men holding her let her go to try to fight the monster before him. This man was obviously was obviously trained in hand-to-hand combat but unfortunately for him, his last oponent would be the indestructable Angel of Death.

Erik blocked his fists with every attempt; the fighter attempted a high kick but Erik ducked and kicked his standing knee in and breaking it. The fighter fell to the floor, screaming when he saw his leg bending in the wrong direction. Erik slammed his fist hard into his chest, literally crushing it in it's protective cavity. The laughing one held on tight to Christine and dragged her away from the scene, kicking and screaming. Erik started for her but the broken-armedgrabbed Erik's cloak with his good arm. The Opera Ghost twirled his cloak over the man's head and pulled the material until he heard the deafening snap of his neck. The laughing one pulled Christine to a wall and tried gathering her skirts up in his hands, giggling all the while. Once her skirts were out of the way, she kneed him in his groin and ran to Erik but the laughing man still wouldn't let her go. He pulled himself to lay on top of her and Christine was becoming exhausted. She screamed Erik's name but the laughing man closed her mouth and chuckled, "Don't worry, love. I won't hurt you til I'm done."

"_You're finished!" _

Erik grabbed the man by the collar and threw him to the wall. He grabbed his neck and lifted him against the bricks; when the man saw his face he stopped laughing. He flicked his wrist and the dagger shot straight into the laughing man's groin. He let go of his neck, letting the weight of his body give permission for the blade to cut through his body like a grotesque autopsy. Christine watched the scene with wide-eyed horror but she heard running footsteps approach them. She turned and saw another group heading toward them. Erik walked to them head on whilst flicking his other wrist releasing the other dagger. One man launched forward but Erik glided the blade across his throat, another attempted an attak but he drove both blades into his heart.

Angelique heard the familair metallic sounds and immediately knew what was happening. She followed the sounds as fast as she could and foumd her Master in a battle with other men. Luckily Master had the upper hand she found Christine lying in the snow, crying and watching her Master in breathless shock. She heard a gutteral groan and saw Master on his knees. His attacker had a large wooden plank and noticed he was preparing to swing the plank aross his face.

_No one hurts my Master!_

She pounced a long jump and landed on the attackers face, scratching and biting with all her might. "Get this fuckin' cat off me!" he screamed. Erik suffered a blow to head and was having trouble getting his sight straight. Christine ran to side and tried to help him but he was too heavy. A man pushed her down and pounded his fist into Erik's face. It was if someone ripped her heart in two when she saw that; _No one touches his face but me! _"Hey!" she yelled as she got up. As the man turned to her, she threw her own fist into his face making him fall back and hit his head hard on the wall. The pain shot all the way up Christine's arm but she tried to ignore it.

Angelique continued to claw and bite with all her effort but the man grabbed her body and threw her into a piece of stone. Erik heard a bone crack and Christine gasp and suddenly his senses returned to him with fear. He saw Christine charging for the man with a bloody face,she was screaming and crying, "Monster! You bastard!" He heard a low painful meow and turned to Angelique's limp form lying in the snow, her eyes beginning to drift away. Tears filled Erik's eyes at the sight but he turned back to man who had done this. He slapped Christine hard across the face and she fell against the wall.

He was about to strike her again but Erik ran to him, grabbing his shoulders and forcing his back to the other wall. He grabbed the man's face and drove his skull into the bricks again and again and again. Harder and harder until he felt the skull crack like an egg and blood painted the wall but that didn't stop him. Christine ran to him and tried to pull him away, "Erik, stop! He's dead!" Still he didn't stop for a moment, smashing the head until the back was near a pulp. "_Erik!_" she screamed while turning his face to her. She saw pure rage, hatred and sadness written across his face. The fire in his eyes dimmed at the sight of her and his tears fell faster. He wanted to hold her but his hands and clothes were stained in the blood of his crimes.

He caught sight of his best friend still lying in the snow He got up and dragged his feet to her little black form. He kneeled beside her and just looked. A Church's bells rung nearby and he looked up at the Cross with such loathing.

_Luciana..._

_Nadir..._

_And now Angelique... _

_Will you take Christine away from me too? _

"I hate you," he said to the Cross, tears choked his voice. "I _hate _you!" he cried with more conviction. Christine cried with him; Angelique wasn't just a pet, she was his only friend when he had no one and She was also her friend and listened to every word she had to say, every secret she held dear to her heart. They both loved her very much. Erik reached a trembling hand to pick up her small head but when he lifted her, bright red colored the snow where her head lay. He shut his eyes and turned away from the sight. He let a sob escape his lungs as he buried his face in his hands. Christine knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around his shaking body. He cried into her shoulder and held closely to him. Christine cried as she witnessed the scene before her. She glanced behind her and saw the remnants of what they endured. Lying in the snow in the middle of it all, lied his mask. She reached for it and held onto it for Erik.

After a moment, he looked at Angelique's form and tried hard to get himself together. Crying, he pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket and wrapped it around her small body. He cradled her with one arm and held her close to his heart inside his jacket for warmth. _Just like when you were a kitten, remember? _ He glanced Angelique's eyes; they lost their brilliance. Without a word, he walked his best friend home for the last time.


End file.
